Yesterday's Memories
by Jennaya
Summary: A new prisoner arrives at Stalag 13 with a dangerous secret known only by Kinch, which could affect the entire camp.
1. Chapter 1

**Yesterday's Memories**

**By**

**Jennaya**

* * *

Written for pleasure only and no copyright infringement is meant or implied. I don't own any of Hogan's Heroes. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author

* * *

"How bad was the cave in?" Hogan asked his arms crossed in front of him standing in front of Barracks Two. It was a warm summer's day and the prisoners of Stalag 13 were wandering about the compound; some were tossing a ball around, others gathered in small groups talking.

"Looks like thirty feet of tunnel nine is gone. It's going to take a month to dig it out. We've lost several support structures and Barracks Eight no longer has tunnel access," Newkirk explained, taking a puff of his cigarette.

"What about access to the infirmaries?" Hogan questioned furrowing his brow.

"Both the topside and the tunnel infirmary can still be reached through tunnel five. The only entrances lost were to Barracks Eight and the recreation hall. Why it caved in we're not sure. I suppose a beam could have broken," Kinch answered. Topside it had been a quiet week, which Hogan and his team needed. They'd carried out an extensive sabotage job a few days ago, along with sending a dozen rescued flyers back to England.

"I think we should do a thorough inspection of the entire tunnel system to make sure nothing else is at risk of collapsing," Carter suggested.

"That's a good idea. LeBeau, get the engineers together and take care of it. The top priorities are our barracks, the radio room, emergency tunnel, Carter's lab, and the infirmaries," Hogan ordered with a weary sigh.

"Oui, mon Colonel," LeBeau took off across the compound to complete his task casting a cautious glance at the guards. The guards were milling around talking to each other and the prisoners. Tower guards were at their post, but most looked like they were day dreaming more than watching their charges with care.

"If it's not the Germans, it's always something else going on around here. Fortunately no one was injured. Was there any damage to the antenna?" Hogan asked.

"No, sir, we got lucky. The entire radio system is up and running," Kinch answered as they all watched a truck enter the compound. As it came to a stop, three Allied soldiers were ordered out. "Looks like we have new guests."

Schultz ambled over to the truck taking charge of the new men ordering their chains removed while signing the paperwork to accept them. The men turned around allowing the heroes a good look at them.

"Wonder where those poor bastards are from? Too bad we didn't get them in the last round we picked up," Newkirk said tossing his cigarette, not noticing the look of shock on Kinch's face.

"We can't rescue them all," Hogan responded watching the newcomers.

Kinch suddenly sat down on the bench in front of the barracks with a gasp; a trembling hand covered his face, "Oh shit no."

"Are you all right?" Newkirk asked concerned, kneeling down by his friend. Hogan and Carter looked worriedly at him.

"No…no…I," Kinch took off inside the barracks and down the ladder into the tunnel with no more explanation.

"What's wrong with him?" Carter asked disturbed, starting to go after him.

"Give him some space," Hogan ordered stopping both Newkirk and Carter. Although just as concerned, he knew Kinch well enough that he needed time alone right now. Hogan's eyes narrowed watching the new prisoners. "Let's get a better look at them." With long strides Newkirk and Carter followed the Colonel over to Klink's office. "New prisoners, Schultzie?"

"They have to be processed before you can talk to them Colonel," Schultz said knowing Hogan would do whatever he pleased.

"Just want to make introductions. I'm Colonel Hogan, this is Carter and Newkirk," Hogan indicated towards his men.

"Sergeant Gibson, and this is Corporal Stevens, and Private Rays, sir," Gibson saluted him.

"Were you just captured?" Hogan asked, returning the salute wondering who had a history with his radioman.

"Yes, sir, we were shot down over Dusseldorf five days ago. Lousy bit of luck," Gibson groused.

"How was your arm injured?" Hogan addressed the Private.

"In the bailout sir," Rays answered nervously, his eyes shifting downward. "The Germans seemed to patch it up okay."

"We have a medic who will take a look at it once you get settled," Hogan assured him.

"They have to see the Kommandant now," Schultz ordered marching the trio into Klink's office.

"Colonel Hogan, I don't remember inviting you to this interrogation," Klink said rolling his eyes as Hogan followed the new prisoners into his office.

"As senior Prisoner of War officer, I'm entitled to be at any interrogation of my men," Hogan reminded him. "Remember men, only name, rank, and serial number."

"That information I know. Private, what airbase were you stationed at?" Klink asked and wasn't surprised to see Hogan shake his head no at the man.

"Rays, Thomas Private, 097534.

"Were you all in the same crew?"

Stevens glanced at Hogan for approval, "I wasn't in their crew."

"Where were you stationed?"

"Stevens, Owen, Corporal 754310."

"Sergeant, where were you stationed?"

"Gibson, Carl, Sergeant, 114358"

"I'm not going to get any answers, am I?" Klink asked.

"No, sir," Hogan replied with his trademark smile.

"Very well, I don't have time for interrogations today anyway. My paperwork never ends," Klink pointed around his desk. "Schultz, assign them to Barracks Two."

"He can't do that sir," Hogan said firmly.

"And why not?" Klink demanded.

"We're full up, no spare bunks. However, there is enough room in Barracks Eight, sir," Hogan suggested. Schultz looked at Hogan wondering what he was up too; there were three open bunks in Barracks Two.

"Very well, I don't care where you put them. Dismissed!" Klink ordered going back to his paperwork as everyone left his office.

"Schultz, we'll get them settled in Barracks Eight, you don't have to worry about it," Hogan said, casually readjusting his crush cap as they stepped outside.

"They _will be_ in Barracks Eight?" Schultz hesitantly asked and Hogan nodded his head. "Very well, I'll let the guards know."

Hogan, Carter, and Newkirk escorted the prisoners to their new home. While introductions were being made, Hogan pulled the Barracks Chief to the side. "They don't get to know about the operation until further notice."

"Standard checkout, sir?" Master Sergeant Wilkerson asked slightly concerned.

"Not this time, I want you to shake them up, see what you can find out," Hogan ordered.

"Do you suspect they're plants?" Wilkerson looked troubled.

"I don't know, just following my gut."

"Don't worry, we'll turn them upside down and see what falls out," Wilkerson promised casting a watchful eye on his new hut mates.

"Let me know what you find out," Hogan ordered leaving and heading back to his barracks. Newkirk and Carter knew their parts in checking out new arrivals and would fill him in later. When he arrived at the hut, Kinch wasn't in sight, so he hit the hidden mechanism making the ladder appear and went downstairs to the radio room. "Has Kinch been around?"

"No, sir, haven't seen him in a while. He might be helping with the dig out," Baker answered looking up from the radio.

"We have new guests. Contact London and get everythingyou can on them," Hogan handed him a paper with the men's names.

"I'll have their baby formulas for you in a few hours sir," Baker promised with a grin.

Hogan nodded his head then went looking for his missing man. His first stop was where Kinch's punching bag hung; unfortunately, it looked like nobody had touched it today. When Kinch needed to work something out, he usually did it hitting the bag. Hogan made his way over to the cave-in with no luck either. Remembering there was a small alcove that some of the men used as a hideaway, he made his way to it. As he got close, he thought he heard a muffled sob.

"Kinch," Hogan stood at the entrance unable to see Kinch's face from the shadows.

"Please leave, sir," he answered.

Hogan sat down on the ground, his back leaning against the wall. He hadn't missed the small catch in Kinch's voice. This was so out of character for his radioman that he wasn't going to honor his request. He sat quietly listening to Kinch gain control over his breathing. Even without being able to see Kinch's face, Hogan knew it was tear-stained.

Nearly ten minutes later Kinch spoke, "Never imagined I'd have this reaction to seeing him again."

"Who?"

"When Gibson got off that truck, all I could see was my father's face. Then all the feelings of watching helplessly, too young to do anything, and the terror of what he put my father through as they killed him came rushing through me. Thought those memories were gone forever. That day I made a promise I intend to keep. I will kill him."

"I can't allow that to happen. Give me a little time, I'll get him transferred out of here," Hogan promised.

Kinch leaned forward where Hogan could see his face, "With all due respect, sir. It's not up to you this time."


	2. Chapter 2

**Yesterday's Memories**

**By**

**Jennaya**

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Author's note: This chapter contains material that will be difficult for some readers.

* * *

Hogan took a deep breath, "You were nine years old when your father was killed. How do you know Gibson was there?"

"I saw him," Kinch said sliding over sitting next to Hogan.

"Where you able to see his face or was he hooded?" Hogan asked gently. It was obvious Kinch believed Gibson was one of his father's murderers, but he needed more information. Kinch had never shared the entire story only the basics.

"Yeah at first he wore a hood," Kinch started.

* * *

_Flashback September 1928_

"Quit teasing your sister and help her with her homework," Raymond Kinchloe admonished his son.

"Yes dad," James straightened up and started helping his younger sister sound out the words on the page. His father went back to reading, suppressing a grin at the familiar sibling banter.

"How's everything going in here?" his wife asked coming into the family room carrying the baby over to her husband.

"Normal. Is Mary ready for bed?" Raymond asked taking the baby and holding her up making her laugh. He gave her a kiss goodnight and handed her back to his wife.

"Yeah, I'm going to put her down now," Patricia answered walking to the back of the small house.

"Daddy, James is making faces at me!" Martha cried out.

"Did not!" James defended himself.

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Okay, that's enough. You can both finish the dishes if you can't stop fighting. Go now!" their father declared with an exasperated sigh.

"Oh it looks like I don't have anything to do now," Patricia said coming back in the room watching her son and daughter grumble as they started the dish water. Her husband grabbed her hand pulling her to him in a loving embrace. As he made her knees weaken she said, "Careful the kids are still up."

"Not for too much longer," Raymond's eyes sparkled.

"Yuck, do you have to do that?" James asked watching from the kitchen sink.

"Oh yes I do," his father said laughing then kissed his wife.

"What's that light down the street?" Patricia asked with fear in her voice.

Raymond walked over to the window and tried to keep the tremble out of his voice. "James, take your sister, get the baby, and go to the hiding place." Martha ran to her mother holding on to her as the light grew larger and chanting could be heard. James stood next to his father holding his hand tightly. Raymond knelt down to his son's level. "I need you to be strong, you're a man now. Take your sisters and keep them safe. I love you son and I've always been proud of you. Go now," he pushed him towards his sister.

James took Martha's hand walking her to the back; both children had tears streaming down their faces. He opened the closet door in the bedroom that he shared with his sisters, taking the boards off the secret compartment their father had built after a man living two streets over had been murdered by the Klan in the spring, and then helped Martha climb in. Next he got the baby out of the crib and handed her to Martha. He started to cover it up and promised his sisters he'd be right back to protect them. James stuck his head around the corner watching his parents' hushed conversation.

"Maybe they're just marching through like last time," Raymond said holding Patricia tight. "They may not even stop anywhere tonight."

"Why do they haunt us like this? What did we ever do to them?" She said with tears in her eyes.

"No matter what happens tonight, this family is moving next month as planned. We're getting out of Atlanta*," Raymond looked into her eyes. "Promise me." Patricia nodded her head yes unable to speak from the fear of what was about to happen. Both jumped as their door was forced open, three men dressed in white robes, masks, and pointed hats entered yelling at Raymond.

As the men grabbed his dad, James ran back to his sisters starting to climb in the hole until he heard his mom scream as she was hit and fell to the floor. "Stay here, I have to go help mom," James said picking up the last plank to cover them. Martha cried for him not to leave. "Be perfectly quiet, I'll be back. I promise," he said then placed the last board in place.

Neighbors had poured out of their homes trying to protect the Kinchloe family, but were being held off with shotguns. James ran to his mom who was standing on the porch begging the men to leave them alone. He placed his small hand in hers and she grabbed her son holding him close to her trying to shield his eyes so he couldn't see what was happening. The tremble in his mom's body allowed James to get one eye so he could see. Two dozen figures dressed in robes looked ten feet tall to him and like they were mean ghosts, not mere men. The loud one in charge was accusing his dad of things James didn't understand and then the leader hit Raymond so hard he fell to the ground. James tried to run to his dad, but his mom held him firmly back. Next, several men hit his dad and Raymond did his best to defend them off, but they overpowered him. Each blow made James angry and terrified simultaneously. They tied Raymond's hands with a rope, the other end tied to the back of a pickup truck. Raymond could barely stand but had to try to keep up when the truck picked up speed. He did his best until he lost his footing and was drug away.

James broke away from his mom's hold running over to the few left to put a burning cross in their yard. He hit the one who had kicked his dad several times and tied the rope to the truck with all his might, and ripped off his mask and hood. Under that frightening mask stood Carl Gibson, an older boy he knew. "Why? Why did you hurt my dad?"

Terrified his mask had come off; Carl swung the hammer in his hand hitting James in the head. The next thing James knew, his mom was sitting on the ground, his head in her lap while she used her apron to stop the bleeding wound on his head. Her tears making his face wet as she tended to the injury. When he first came to, the look of fear in his mother's eyes terrified him, and he knew his father was dead.

* * *

"I'll never forget the look on his face when I pulled that mask off of him. He was almost as scared as I was," Kinch said wiping the tears from his eyes. "I'd known Gibson my entire life, but have never figured out why they killed my dad. What I learned later was that Gibson's family has ruled the Klan for nearly thirty years in Atlanta."

"I'm so sorry," Hogan said brushing a stray tear from his eye.

"Well now I have the opportunity to do something about it," Kinch was determined.

"I know you want to avenge your father, and that's completely understandable. However, here and now isn't the time or place. If you killed him it's very likely that the Germans would shoot you, and where would that leave us?" Hogan asked trying to defuse the situation.

"None of those bastards have ever been brought up on charges. His murder was just swept under the rug. I can't let my father down!"

"You're not letting him down. I promise you, I'll get Gibson transferred out of here and when the time is right you'll be able to make sure he's brought up on charges. I'll help," Hogan assured him, not quite sure what could be done.

"He's the worst kind of racist there is. If you transfer him out then another camp will have to deal with him and every black man there will be in danger," Kinch countered.

"We'll send him back to England."

"For what? For them to put him back in an aircrew? No, he has to be dealt with here and before he hurts anyone else. What if he finds out about the operation?" Kinch asked.

"Orders have been given out to the entire camp that none of the new prisoners are to be told anything. Wilkerson is keeping a close eye out on them. Just give me a little bit of time and we'll figure out the best solution," Hogan requested again.

"He's in Barracks Eight? Mason is in that hut! The kid is just beginning to recover from what the SS did to him, and if Gibson starts in on Mason, we'll lose him permanently," Kinch's fear evident on his face and in his voice.

* * *

* I know Kinch is from Detroit, but for purposes of this story, his family moved to Detroit after his father was killed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Yesterday's Memories**

**By**

**Jennaya**

* * *

"I'll move Mason into our barracks until the situation with Gibson can be resolved. There's an empty lower bunk with Reynolds and he'd be a good bunkmate for Mason. What do you think?" Hogan asked, watching Kinch carefully.

"Klink hasn't approved any barracks moves in a while, what makes you think he'll let Mason move in here?" Kinch questioned.

"Who says I'll ask Klink? Don't worry; I'll make it happen today. Can you think of any other precautions we should take?"

"Placing him in Barracks Eight was smart; he has no access to the tunnels. A leopard can't change its spots and Gibson hasn't changed. Everyone will need to be assiduous to ensure safety of the entire camp. It would be better to deal with him sooner rather than later," Kinch said calming down some.

"We will. Right now, why don't we go topside? I'll get Mason transferred over and you can make sure everything is ready for him. Explain to Reynolds that he's to shadow Mason until Gibson leaves," Hogan ordered.

"Reynolds has befriended Mason, so it won't be a problem. I just hope Gibson doesn't try anything in the meantime," Kinch answered resigned to the fact he'd have to wait a little longer to see justice.

"If he does he'll end up in the cooler it might just be the safest for everyone. Don't worry, I'll think of something," Hogan said with a smile then stood and stretched out a hand to help Kinch up.

"Thank you, sir," Kinch said standing up. He knew that was Hogan's trademark line when he didn't have a plan yet, but he trusted the Colonel. He still wanted to kill Gibson it just wouldn't happen today, maybe tomorrow.

Hogan stopped in the supply room rummaging through a box pulling three items out and stuffing the ammunition in his inside jacket pocket. Then he and Kinch climbed the ladder to the barracks.

"Are you all right mate?" Newkirk asked watching Kinch climb over the bunk frame.

"Yeah, I am. Sorry I took off so fast, didn't mean to worry anyone," Kinch looked slightly embarrassed.

"No worries, if you need anything let us know," Newkirk answered still curious, but didn't want to push his friend. Kinch would talk when he was ready and not before.

"What did you find out?" Hogan asked closing the bunk bed entrance.

"Their uniforms are US issue, and they've already asked about escaping. From all initial appearances they're legit," Carter explained. He was sitting at the table with a deck of cards in his hands.

"I think it's pretty safe bet that they are Allied soldiers, but the initial order still stands. Make sure everyone understands they don't know anything about the operation until further notice. We need to keep a special eye out on Sergeant Gibson. Unless I summon him, he's not to step foot into this barracks. Is that understood?" Hogan ordered looking at the men gathered around the table; about half the residents of the barracks were present. 'Yes, sir,' was heard from every man. "Carter, I want you to go find Reynolds, Kinch has a job for him. Newkirk, would you help Kinch until Reynolds gets here?"

"Of course Gov'nor," Newkirk picked up the unstated meaning to not leave Kinch alone, which made him even more worried about his friend. He was determined that Gibson wouldn't cause any trouble for Kinch. Newkirk took an instant disliking to the man, and the Colonel's orders made him even more suspicious of the Sergeant.

"I have things to take care of, you have your orders," Hogan said leaving the barracks. He walked slowly to Barracks Eight still trying to come up with the best solution for the situation. Nothing was coming to mind. He'd almost preferred a visit from Hochstetter rather than being in this quagmire. When he reached his destination, he found Wilkerson in his office but the rest of the hut was empty.

"Sir, what can I do for you?" Wilkerson stood up at attention.

"At ease," Hogan sat down at the desk with the Master Sergeant. "Where is everyone?"

"We had a problem so I separated everyone. I sent Gibson and Stevens to the showers, and Wilson is checking out Rays. The rest are down below working on the tunnels," Wilkerson took a sip of his tea.

"What happened?"

"Gibson is a bigot and he has to go. He started in on Mason and Brown got between them. It almost came to blows. Mason's a good kid and in the last week he's even started sitting at the table with everyone. He can't handle and doesn't deserve the racist trash Gibson was throwing at him. Six months in the custody of the SS did some major damage, and I'm afraid Mason's going to pull back into his shell because of Gibson," Wilkerson was obviously concerned.

Hogan shook his head rubbing his forehead, he didn't need this headache. "For now you're stuck with Gibson, but I'm moving Mason to my barracks so I need you to get him ready. If you need to run interference with Gibson, pull anyone in you need. The guards will be by in a bit to move him. What about Stevens and Rays?"

"Stevens has been quiet. He didn't get involved in the altercation. It appears that Rays is scared of Gibson. Sir, what are we going to do with them? I'm afraid the operation will be in danger if Gibson finds out about it," Wilkerson's brown eyes showed concern.

"See if you can find out what Rays is afraid of and work on getting more information about Stevens. Gibson won't be staying, not exactly sure what I'll do with him yet, or when he's leaving. The other two, we'll just have to wait and see what turns up," Hogan answered. He didn't want to share that Gibson was part of the Klan. In a camp this large, they'd had their share of racial tension, but nothing this blatant or dangerous. Somehow it had always worked out, this time Hogan feared it wouldn't.

"We'll manage with them. Thank you for moving Mason. I'll go down and get him out of the tunnel and I'll make sure Gibson and Stevens are occupied. With the way tempers flared earlier, what if I can't keep him out of the cooler?" Wilkerson asked.

"If Gibson ends up in the cooler, it might not be a bad thing," Hogan answered standing up to leave.

"Understood sir," Wilkerson responded with a smirk.

Hogan's head was beginning to hurt, but he had another important stop to make as he wandered around the compound. Seeing whom he was searching for Hogan causally stroll up to the guard. "How's it going?"

"Oh, Colonel Hogan, I didn't see you," Schultz scooted over on the bench making room for Hogan to sit down. "What can I do for you?"

"I need a favor," Hogan started causally.

"What type of favor?" Schultz asked, concerned.

"I need you to move a prisoner from Barracks Eight to Barracks Two," Hogan watched Schultz closely.

"Kommandant Klink has to approve all moves."

"We don't need to bother him with this. You're the Sergeant of the Guards and placing all three new prisoners in Barracks Eight might be strenuous for the new guard assigned to that Barracks. So to take care of your men, you moved one prisoner," Hogan smiled at Schultz and handed him a candy bar from his inside jacket pocket.

"Ja, that makes sense. Which prisoner?"

"Private Mason."

"Oh he's a nice boy, a little shy, but always polite. Has he done something? Or is there something I should know?" Schultz held his hand out for another candy bar.

"Nope, nothing you want to know about," Hogan handed over a second candy.

"How do you know what I want to know about?" Hogan raised his eyebrow at the guard. "Never mind, I know nothing! Will the new prisoners be escaping?" Schultz asked, fretful.

"Why do you ask?"

"It seems strange that you told the Kommandant you don't have room, and now you want me to move a prisoner into Barracks Two. Will they be leaving?"

"I don't know yet. I'll let you know when I know," Hogan smiled at the guard.

"Please let me be the last to know," Schultz begged.

"If you make this move happen quickly, this chocolate bar with raisins will be waiting for you when Mason moves into our hut," Hogan held the bar where Schultz could see it but not touch it.

"Jawohl," Schultz left heading towards Barrack Eight.

Hogan closed his eyes taking a few deep breaths; the sunlight was making his head hurt worse but he had another stop to make. Slowly he walked over to the camp's infirmary. Entering the building, the medic was alone sitting at his desk working on paperwork. Wilson looked up and smiled at Hogan, sitting his pen down.

"I heard you checked out the new prisoners. Anything to report?"

"I've only seen Rays so far, and the German doctor did a good job on his arm," Wilson explained watching Hogan closely.

"What was your impression of him?" Hogan sat down across from the medic.

"Reserved, shy. I think he's still trying to process being a prisoner. When I asked him how he broke his arm, all he'd tell me was in the bailout. Most people give me the details. I heard there was some trouble with one of the other newbies," Wilson answered.

"Yeah. I've got to figure out what to do with them. Do you think Rays will be all right?" Hogan ran a hand over his face.

"Physically yes, his arm should heal without a problem. Wilkerson should be able to get Rays to open up. If there's anything I can do to help, I'd be happy to," Wilson walked over to his medicine cabinet and took out some aspirin handing them to Hogan.

"How did you know?" Hogan asked taking the medication. Wilson just smiled at him and gave him some water. "Mason is moving into our hut for now. It would probably be a good idea for you to stop by sometime."

"I'll do that. Sir, if you need a sounding board I'm available," Wilson said sitting back down.

"Not right now, thanks," Hogan replied leaving. The person he needed to talk to was hundreds of miles away in London. But would the General have any more of an idea how best to handle things than Hogan did?


	4. Chapter 4

**Yesterday's Memories**

**By**

**Jennaya**

* * *

Kinch and Newkirk had just finished getting the bunk ready for Mason when Reynolds came into the barracks. Kinch explained what Hogan wanted Reynolds to do, and then Kinch went back down to the tunnels. "You don't have to follow me around, I don't need a babysitter," Kinch said exasperated.

"I know mate, but something is obviously wrong and I thought you might want to talk about it," Newkirk answered determined to not leave Kinch alone.

Kinch blew out a deep breath, "Seeing Gibson has me thinking about things I haven't in a very long time."

"What type of things?"

Kinch explained as they both sat on stools in the sewing room.

_

* * *

September 1928_

The seriousness of his concussion kept James in bed for several days, but he was determined to see his father before the funeral. He had to know the truth, and all he could get from the family was that his father was gone, then there were a few hushed words the adults spoke when they thought he was asleep. When he was awake they wouldn't tell him anything about what happened. It made him angry and he was determined to find out the truth one way or another.

Knowing his father's body was laying in the church, he made his plan. The church was down the street and he wouldn't have trouble getting into it. It was his job to help clean the rodents out of the church cellar, so he knew ways of getting into the building without being seen. After dinner, his mother changed his bandage and helped him into clean pajamas. He asked her to close the door because he was really tired and didn't want the light in the room. James pretended to fall asleep quickly, while his mom sat on the side of bed rubbing his arm. Satisfied he was doing all right; Patricia kissed him good night and left closing the door. James got up and listened at the door assured the adults were all talking and not paying attention to him. Then he changed into regular clothes and climbed out the back window dropping to the ground. Getting out of his backyard was a little difficult but he made it over to the church without being seen.

James found the loose boards that would allow him to crawl into the back of the church and pried it open as quietly as possible. This late at night only one person was sitting vigil with his dad; his best friend, Eugene. Eugene's head was in on a pew as he knelt by it in fervent prayer. James tiptoed from the back of the pulpit to the coffin. The lid was closed and he had to work at the latch for a moment before getting it to open. Then he pushed the lid open but it wouldn't stay up, so he stood on a chair securing the lid so it would stay open.

James looked at his dad, the bruises on his face and hands; he saw the marks from the rope around his neck. It was more than a nine year old could handle, sobs started coming from his throat involuntarily.

"You shouldn't see him like this, son," Eugene put a comforting arm around James.

"I had to he's my dad. He always said he was proud of me, so I couldn't let him down by not seeing him off to Heaven. Why did they kill him? Did daddy do something wrong?" James had tears streaming down his face.

"Your dad did nothing wrong. He was a good, honest man, who loved his family. I don't know why they killed him. I'm not sure anyone knows why a man will choose to be mean to another man, instead of offering a hand in friendship," Eugene had tears in his own eyes. "Do you know how much your dad loved you?"

"I love him." James stood there taking in everything about his dad burning it in his memory. He'd carry this image with him throughout his life.

"I know you do and he loved you and your sisters fiercely. Always remember that your dad fought for what was right and for those that couldn't fight for themselves. Raymond was a hero," Eugene could feel James fighting to stand. "Come on; let's get you back to bed. How is your head feeling? You took quite a blow to it."

"It hurts. Aunt Jesse gives me something to drink that makes it feel better, but I always fall asleep when I take it. It tastes nasty though," James made a face at the taste. Then he yawned swaying and Eugene picked him up.

"Well lets go get some of Aunt Jesse's magic medicine and have her put a little sugar in it to make it taste better," Eugene carried him home and stayed with him until he fell asleep.

James stayed by his mother's side holding her hand during the entire funeral service the next day. He was now the man of the house and would have to step up to protect her. Before the wooden casket was lowered into the ground, James laid against it whispering to his dad that he'd get the men responsible for his death.

* * *

"Bloody hell!" Newkirk exclaimed pacing around the room. "Anything you want to do to him, I'll help."

"I promised the Colonel I'd give him some time to figure out a way to have Gibson stand trial. My first thought was to just beat the bastard to death," Kinch appreciated Newkirk's support.

"The Colonel will figure something out," Newkirk assured him. Although, he completely understood Kinch's plan, he knew it wasn't the best idea. However, Newkirk might just be paying Gibson a little visit while he was still in the Stalag.

Baker came out of the radio room surprised to see Kinch and Newkirk climbing upstairs then followed them up. He handed the requested information to Hogan. "Gibson should attach his stripes with tape as much as he loses them. He's no stranger to the stockade either. The other two seem pretty straight forward," Baker explained.

"That's about what I figured," Hogan said reading through the information.

"Is Gibson why you had me moved over here, sir?" Mason asked. He never made eye contact with anyone.

"Partially, plus I wanted to have you more involved in the operation. If you think you'd like that," Hogan smiled at the Private.

"That'd be a really neat birthday present," Mason replied eagerly.

"When's your birthday," Hogan asked causally.

"Tomorrow," Mason replied then realized his mistake. "I mean in a couple of months."

"How old will you be tomorrow," Hogan questioned. He knew the information on his file said his birthday was in three months. Mason didn't answer. "Will you be seventeen or maybe fifteen?"

"Sixteen, sir," Mason knew his cover story was a bust.

"Whose birthday is on your paperwork?" Hogan asked in an authoritative tone. Mason being fifteen years old made a lot more sense to Hogan.

"My brother, Roger, he signed up but decided to marry his girl a few days before he reported in. Roger was always small for his age and I was tall for mine. So I showed up with his paperwork and no one questioned me," Mason explained looking down at the floor.

"What's your first name?" Reynolds asked standing next to the Private.

"Roy."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Roy," Hogan held his hand out to the boy. Mason shook his hand still not making eye contact. "LeBeau, sixteen is a pretty important birthday that needs to be celebrated."

"Oui, mon Colonel, we'll make sure it's a special day," LeBeau was already planning what to swipe from the officer's mess to make a cake.

"Baker, would you setup a meeting time for me with General Butler? Use code Blue Mountain for the reason," Hogan requested turning towards his back up radioman.

"Yes, sir, I'll take care of it and let you know when it's setup," Baker promised.

"I'll be in my office if anyone needs me," Hogan said then closed his door. He started pacing trying to get his mind around the events of today. A child tortured by the SS for months was horrifying to Hogan, and it made him angry. He knew it happened from time to time that a teenager snuck into the Army on falsified papers, but usually they never made it into combat. He wanted an investigation started on how Mason was able to become a gunner on flight crew. Who was responsible for allowing Mason into the position where he could be captured by the SS? He had to make the decision on when and how to send Mason home; he had no business being in a POW camp at his age.

Plus was there anything that could be done to hold Gibson responsible in the death of Kinch's father? He wasn't sure, but had a few favors he could call in.


	5. Chapter 5

**Yesterday's Memories**

**By**

**Jennaya**

* * *

Author's Note: This chapter contains derogatory language.

* * *

Kinch had lost his babysitter, Newkirk, about thirty minutes ago by ducking into another barracks. He spent the time in Barracks Twenty-Six just joking around with the other prisoners. It had been a rough day and he needed to feel normal for a while. When he left that barracks, he walked around the compound occasionally feeling eyes upon him; fortunately, no one was blatantly following him around anymore.

"Hey Kinch," Corporal Davis called out walking fast towards the radioman.

"What can I do for you?" Kinch stopped and waited for the younger man to catch up.

"Just wondering if you knew why the Colonel gave orders not to tell the new people anything?" Davis asked.

Kinch shrugged his shoulders, "Sorry, all I know is it's the Colonel's gut feeling." He wasn't going to tell anyone outside his teammates the real reasons.

"That's good enough for me. Anything the Colonel wants he's going to get. I'll pass the word along. I have to get down to the collapsed tunnel for my shift, see ya later," Davis said as he left.

Kinch turned continuing his aimless walking around the compound towards the back of the camp when suddenly a figure stopped him between two buildings. "Well, well, well, look what the Krauts allowed in here," Gibson moved closer to Kinch.

"Gibson, imagine running into you," Kinch said dryly keeping his cool.

"Have the Germans made you their whipping boy, _boy_? I see you're still carrying the branding I gave you back in Atlanta," Gibson smirked.*

"Of all the POW camps, how did you end up here?" Kinch asked rolling his eyes.

"Just lucky I guess. I hear the Germans know what to do with trash like you. I'll have a talk with the commander and get you to be my property for as long as you behave. Course the other trash in this camp don't seem to know their place, but that can be handled pretty quickly. Maybe we can make an example out of one of them. Who do you think should be used, _boy_?" Gibson stood with his arms crossed like he was in control.

Gibson didn't hear Wilkerson come up behind him. Putting a hand on Gibson's shoulder, Wilkerson spun the Sergeant around and stood close enough that Gibson could feel Wilkerson's breath on his face. "You are addressing a superior and will address the Staff Sergeant in a manner that reflects the honor and respect someone of his rank has earned. If you ever refer to the Staff Sergeant in any other manner, I will bust you down to a lowly Private. Is that understood?" Stunned Gibson didn't answer immediately. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master Sergeant!" Gibson fumed out.

"You will apologize to the Sergeant for your disrespect now," Wilkerson ordered. Gibson turned red with anger. Apologize to one of those? It had to be the most humiliating thing he'd ever been ordered to do. He barely held it together not exploding at Wilkerson. "Sergeant Kinchloe is waiting for your apology," Wilkerson repeated. He had Kinch come over so he was facing Gibson.

"Staff Sergeant Kinchloe, I apologize for any disrespectful remarks I may have made. It won't happen again," Gibson grudgingly ground out through gritted teeth.

"See to it that it doesn't," Kinch replied with authority.

"Your punishment is a week of KP**. Report back to the barracks immediately. Dismissed," Wilkerson ordered. Gibson saluted him then walked away in a huff. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, just been keeping an eye out on him. He caused some trouble earlier. Are you all right?" Wilkerson sincerely asked his professional side showing. He'd served in the military for ten years as a navigator then left to attend college to become psychologist. When the war started he was three-fourths through school when the Army recalled him. Due to his new specialty, he was promoted from Staff Sergeant to Master Sergeant assigned to a bomber group in England to help the men make sense of what it was they were going through, or when a friend didn't return from a mission. During a particularly brutal time, the base had taken heavy casualties when an urgent mission came through and no navigators were available. Wilkerson volunteered thinking the mission would give him more insight to what those he counseled were going through. The plane had dropped its bomb load and the mission had been a milk run, until they were on their way home and an ack-ack battery hit the plane over Wiesbaden. Most of the crew was able to bail out, but Wilkerson lost contact with them on the ground once he was captured. For six months, he bounced between Stalags until arriving here. Hogan made sure he stayed and the most damaged prisoners were assigned to Barracks 8 until they were able to rejoin the rest of the population.

"I learned long ago not to allow a bully's words to affect me," Kinch answered, hoping not to explain the past between him and Gibson right now. The men had formed a deep friendship as kindred souls, both able to tell when the other needed someone to listen.

"He's being kept under surveillance, so all he can do is make empty threats. If he gives you trouble again, let me know," Wilkerson said as he and Kinch started walking back towards the middle of the compound.

"I'm not concerned, but if something comes up, I'll let you know," Kinch agreed and the men went their separate ways. Wilkerson watched Kinch leave; he could feel the heaviness on Kinch hoping that he wouldn't keep it bottled up too long. All he could do now was be available when his friend was ready to talk.

* * *

After dinner, Gibson sat on a bench outside the mess hall lighting up a cigarette; he took a long drag then blew the smoke out of his nose. The last week had been one insult after another. He was in a prisoner of war camp! How the hell had he ended up in this backwater sewer, and not back in England on another mission to bomb the guts out of Germany? He never handled being locked up well, and he knew that he'd have to be the first to make a successful escape from this place. Looking around it was a joke that no one had ever escaped unless the prisoners had been lulled into thinking this place was good. It was an armpit. And having to apologize to one of _those_ was the worst thing he'd ever been ordered to do. And to Kinchloe to boot! It was the ultimate humiliation.

"I heard I'd find you over here," a friend said sitting down on the bench with him. "What did you do to get KP on your first day?"

"Took advantage of a golden opportunity. Do you remember the one I told you about? The only one who could connect me to the Klan? I'd hoped he was long dead but it turns out he's a prisoner here too. I ran into him and my mouth got the better of me," Gibson fumed.

"How many times have I warned you to think before speaking?"

"This time you might be right. I need to hold my tongue and watch for a while. What I don't understand is why they aren't separated from the real people and put into the worst barracks. Although I think all the barracks are in pretty bad shape."

"Hogan, the senior POW officer, ordered the desegregation when he was brought into the camp. Who was it that you run into?"

"So the CO is a nigger lover, isn't that lovely. No wonder the trash in this prison don't know their place. Sergeant Kinchloe is who needs to be dealt with, however he has to be handled right. I need to do some surveillance, get the lay of the land. Don't want to risk getting shot for resolving a sticky situation. Will you help me?" Gibson tossed his cigarette butt on the ground.

"Kinch? That might not be as easy as it looks; he's the Colonel's right hand man. Hogan would run to his defense."

"Why is a Colonel in an enlisted man's camp?" Gibson asked, shaking his head in confusion.

"I suppose the German's might have wanted to break him, not really sure."

"Will you help me put an end to this dilemma?" Gibson asked lighting another cigarette.

"What do you want done?" his friend asked.

"Kinch has to pay for the ass chewing I took and this damn punishment. Because of the humiliation he's caused, he should suffer ten-fold. Once I determine what his routine is then we'll figure out what the best time and place will be to deal with him," Gibson explained, too calmly.

"What exactly are you thinking, a good beat down, or something more permanent?" his friend questioned.

"Staff Sergeant Kinchloe needs to be put to down like the dog he is, but not before he learns his place, and pays for what he caused me. We'll take our sweet time torturing him before he dies," Gibson savored the thought of Kinch screaming out in pain, and then watching as the life left Kinch's body just like his father's life had been snuffed out.

"Absolutely I'll help; I wouldn't miss it for anything. This is where I think we should start," his friend replied with a malevolent grin on his face.

* * *

*Kinch has a scar in the middle of his forehead and that is what Gibson is referring, when he hit Kinch with the hammer in 1928 it left a permanent scar.

** KP is military slang for kitchen duty and given out as a punishment. He'd have to do the dirtiest and most tedious jobs in the mess hall for a week.


	6. Chapter 6

**Yesterday's Memories**

**By**

**Jennaya**

* * *

"How did you celebrate birthdays at home?" LeBeau asked Mason as they ate breakfast.

"My ma would make my favorite, grits with butter, for breakfast. And then later in the day all our relatives would come over for a supper with cake and ice cream," Mason answered looking at his plate.

"What is _grits_?" LeBeau asked with a curious look on his face.

"Its ground corn made into a hot cereal and other things," Kinch explained.

"Que les sons dégoûtant.*" LeBeau made a repulsive face.

"The French eat snails and you're disgusted because he eats corn porridge," Newkirk stated. He'd never understand French cuisine.

"What would she make for dinner?" LeBeau asked ignoring Newkirk.

"It would depend on what type of meat we had, sometimes fish, deer, or rabbit," Mason said. His eyes showed a slight spark when he mentioned rabbit.

"I will make my famous Bouillabaisse; it will be magnifique," LeBeau used his hands to illustrate.

"Don't poison the lad," Newkirk said making a sour face.

"Yeah, the Colonel said to make the day special as in fun, not puking his guts out," Carter said, disgusted at the thought of more fish stew.

"Even _I've_ heard about your fish stew," Mason threw out.

"You all sound like you don't like my stew," LeBeau replied, shocked.

"Finally, he's getting the message," Olsen said with a grin. Everyone around the table chimed in agreement.

LeBeau looked disappointingly at everyone in the barracks. "Well since you all don't appreciate my Bouillabaisse then rabbit is something I can work with and know will be enjoyed. Klink has been saving one for the next time Burkhalter visits, but I think celebrating a birthday is much more important. What types of cake do you like?" LeBeau asked.

"My favorite is red velvet, but I also like coconut, and vanilla cream. You don't have to go to any trouble for me though," Mason answered, remembering his mom's coconut cake on his fourteenth birthday. On his fifteenth birthday, they'd flown a successful mission and the aircrew went out drinking to celebrate. He had his first taste of beer; it was a birthday he'd never forget, even though some of it was fuzzy. However that seemed so long ago, a life time ago, how life had changed in a year.

"As mes Colonel said, sixteen is special and I'll do my best on dinner. Just wait and see," LeBeau replied with a smile.

"Where in the south are you from?" Kinch asked.

"Alabama about thirty miles south of Birmingham. Why?" Mason asked.

"I could tell from your favorite foods that you were a southern boy," Kinch smiled, pleasantly surprised at the amount of conversation coming from Mason.

Hogan sat back watching the good hearted bickering and thought he saw the hint of a smile on Mason's face. Wilkerson was right; the child had come a long way from the shell he'd been in when he arrived at Stalag 13 nearly four months ago. At first if anyone spoke to him, Mason would visibly tremble and never uttered a word, but slowly he showed signs of improvement.

"Sir, your meeting with the General is in fifteen minutes. I'll go down and get him on the radio," Baker offered, breaking Hogan out of his thoughts.

"Thanks, I'll be down shortly," he refilled his coffee cup listening to his men's banter for a couple more moments. Then he climbed down the ladder making his way over to the radio room.

"General Butler's on the line, sir," Baker told him with a smile.

"Thanks and make sure no one comes down here until I return topside," Hogan ordered.

"Yes, sir," Baker left going upstairs closing the hidden entrance behind him.

Hogan picked up the headset as he sat down on the stool, "Papa Bear here."

"Good to hear your voice Colonel. You requested a Blue Mountain meeting. What type of situation do you need assistance?" Butler's voice came across the airwaves.

"The first is a huge headache, and something slightly smaller that needs to be resolved," Hogan proceeded to explain Kinch and Gibson's past relationship.

"You do find yourself in the most unusual predicaments, and this isn't one I'd wish on anyone. Both men were civilians when this occurred and so was the victim. What do you think the military can do over a civilian matter?"

"I'm not sure, but the civilian authorities have failed in this matter. I have a friend in the US Attorney's office, and I'd like to get a message to and see if he can open an investigation. There may be nothing that can be done until the war is over, but I have to try. And I'm not exactly sure what to do with Gibson, obviously he can't stay here," Hogan admitted.

"Since the Sergeant has caused trouble despite recently arriving, it seems that trouble follows him. Let me start an investigation into what he did while stationed at his air base in England, from what you have indicated, I seriously doubt that he was the model soldier. If you can keep him in camp for a while, I bet we'll turn something up for which he can be charged. At the very least, I can have him transferred somewhere miserable cleaning toilets until the end of the war. Maybe not the outcome your second in command is hoping for, but something tangible that we can do until the appropriate time," Butler offered.

"Sir, that's the best solution at this time, thank you," Hogan replied with a relieved sigh.

"It does mean that at some point you'll have send him to London; any idea how you'll work that and keep Klink's record intact?"

"Not a clue, but I'll think of something, sir," Hogan answered, wondering how he'd accomplish it.

"You said there was another matter?"

"Yes sir, a Private was brought to camp about four months ago by the SS; they'd had him in custody for nearly six months. I found out that today is his sixteenth birthday."

"That means he enlisted at fourteen? How did that happen?" Butler's voice was filled with shock.

"That's an answer I'd like explained to me," Hogan replied.

"I'll initiate an investigation into that as well," Butler answered and Hogan gave him the particulars on Mason. "Why did the SS turn him over to the Luftwaffe? Although I'm grateful, they usually execute such prisoners."

"The officer that brought him here seemed quite pleased that Mason had been broken, and laughed at saddling the Luftwaffe with the responsibility of caring for him. Whatever his true motives or orders were, I'm glad they left him here. We've done our best to care for him and he's responding, obviously when the situation with Gibson is resolved I need to send Mason home," Hogan answered.

"When you do, we'll make sure he gets the care he needs. Colonel, you're a magnet for trouble," Butler said, jokingly.

"Yes, sir," Hogan laughed in agreement.

"Well, express my sympathies to Kinch, and I'll keep you informed of the investigations on my end. Butler out," the radio went silent.

Hogan sat back blowing out a deep breath. It was a beginning at least. Now to break the bad news to Kinch that Gibson would be staying for a few weeks. Plus he had come up with a way to keep the Krauts in dark, and the newbies from learning about the operation. He climbed up the ladder and as the bunk bed was closing, Olsen stuck his head in the door.

"Major Hochstetter just rolled into camp; he's going into Klink's office."

Hogan closed his eyes for a second, "Great, exactly what I don't need today. Kinch, hook up the coffee pot." He followed his team into his office as they gathered around the listening device.

"_Major, what can I do for you? Not that you need a reason to stop by, the Gestapo is always welcome," Klink's voice sounded stressed._

"_Quit your boot licking! Tell me about your escaped prisoner."_

"_Now you know we've never had a successful escape at Stalag 13."_

"_Ja, somehow you always manage to recapture the prisoners. But you do have escape attempts, who was it this time?" Hochstetter sounded exasperated._

"_I assure you every prisoner is accounted for," Klink replied._

"_Hogan walks in and out of camp any time he wishes. Now who has escaped!" Hochstetter's voice went up an octave._

"_I saw Colonel Hogan not two hours ago at morning roll call; you see there's nothing to worry about."_

"_I wasn't asking about Hogan. Who was the last man to escape and when?" Hochstetter's tone indicated his patience was obviously running out._

"_We haven't had an escape attempt in almost a month and that was Sergeant Olsen. He was in the cooler for three weeks, since then he's learned his lesson and has been a model prisoner," Klink bragged._

_"Bah, obviously bidding his time until the next time he tries. I want you to have a full roll call identifying each man immediately," Hochstetter ordered._

"Carter and Newkirk, down in tunnel, sound the alarm, get it cleared now!" Hogan ordered, urgently. Both men took off running to accomplish their task. The entrance left wide open, Hogan could hear the alarm bells echoing through their tunnel system.

"_Why would I do that? We had roll call not long ago and I'm proud to say everyman was present," Klink asked sounding confused._

"_NOW!" Hochstetter shouted._

Klink muttered some incoherent reply before Hogan couldn't hear them anymore. Knowing they'd gone outside, Hogan and his men stepped out of the barracks in time to hear Klink call for Schultz to hold another roll call.

"What do you suppose ole Hochstetter is up too, sir?" Olsen asked watching the Germans scramble.

"I'm not sure. No one is outside of camp, right?" Hogan asked with his arms wrapped around his body.

"No sir," Kinch answered. "Other than us getting those flyers out to the underground, Olsen was the last out and he's been back a week." Olsen's supposed time in the cooler was spent out on a reconnaissance mission.

"Did all the flyers make it home?"

"Yes, sir, the underground said each one made it to the sub and London verified the sub arrived safely three days ago. What do you think this is all about?" Kinch asked.

"I'm not sure, but it can't be good news with Hochstetter involved," Hogan answered. "Olsen, anything happen outside that didn't seem important at the time?"

Olsen thought for a moment before answering, "No, nothing comes to mind. I was careful to keep my cover intact."

Schultz came up ordering them in formation for roll call. Hogan and his men complied as Newkirk and Carter joined them outside. Hogan's eyes never left Hochstetter while Klink and the Major made their way over to Barracks Two.

"Well Schultz?" Hochstetter demanded.

"All thirteen men are present and accounted for," Schultz felt a wave of relief. He was never sure when someone might be out of camp on business.

"Colonel Hogan, you will join us on this inspection," Hochstetter ordered, forcefully.

"Well since you put it so nicely," Hogan replied following the pair to the next barracks. "What are you looking for, Major?"

"Yes, I'd like to know too," Klink said as they moved between barracks making sure everyone was present.

"That we will all discuss in the Kommandant's office once I'm sure every man is where they belong," Hochstetter growled. "What about new prisoners?"

"We have three that arrived yesterday, but we've already seen them back at Barracks 8," Klink answered.

After they'd reviewed each barracks Hochstetter turned to Klink, "Show me these new prisoners." The trio walked to Barracks Eight where Hochstetter put his gloved finger in Private Rays face. "Tell me where you were captured!" Rays, visibly shaken by Hochstetter's presence, looked at Hogan for how to answer.

"Major, why do you want to know that information?" Hogan asked stepping in to protect his new man.

"Trust me in this investigation when I say you will want to help me every way possible," Hochstetter replied. "However, you don't have to worry; I'm not trying to pin something on the Private. It is information that Klink will have in his file."

"I seriously doubt we'll ever be on the same side of anything. It's okay, Private, answer the Major," Hogan ordered.

"Near Düsseldorf, sir," Rays found his voice.

"Were you all captured together," Hochstetter waved his arm indicating the other two. Rays nodded his head yes. "That doesn't help me. Let's go to Klink's office."

Once in the office with the door closed Klink asked, "Now Major, why don't you tell us what's going on?"

"Yesterday an American Sergeant was found outside of Hammelburg beaten to death beyond any means of identifying him other than his dark hair and height of 5'9". We only know his rank by the insignia on his uniform. Obviously it was the work of vigilantes," Hochstetter explained.

"What about dog tags?" Hogan questioned, eyes narrowed.

"They'd been removed. We can't report his death to the Red Cross until he's been identified. So you see Hogan, it's in your men's best interest to cooperate fully. Plus I know you're good enough of an officer to keep your men from attempting any escape until the guilty parties have been found and dealt with accordingly," Hochstetter stated.

"Thank you for telling me, but I have to wonder why you're going after them?" Hogan asked more alarmed then letting show.

"Because he could have been interrogated and any useful information would have helped the German war effort!" Hochstetter replied loudly wondering why it wasn't obvious. "Klink, you're to inform my office immediately of any attempted escapes." Then Hochstetter left the office in search of the civilians.

Hogan slowly walked back over to his barracks watching Hochstetter drive out of camp. He never thought he'd agree with the Gestapo Major on anything, nor give him assistance in any type of investigation. But it was in the Allies, the operation, and the underground's best interest for the individuals to be captured quickly. Hogan rubbed the back of his neck, his headache returning; he could only hope that this week didn't get any worse!

* * *

* That sounds disgusting!


	7. Chapter 7

**Yesterday's Memories**

**By**

**Jennaya**

* * *

"How's he doing?" Hogan asked coming out of his office for a coffee refill.

"He's having a rough time still. This is something his mother used to do when he was upset. It seems to help," Wilson answered, rubbing Mason's forearm with a soothing motion.

"I thought the sedation would stop that and let him rest," Hogan replied, watching Mason's face twisted with pain.

"He's still dreaming. The medicines help some, but I don't have anything strong enough to ensure he doesn't dream. All we can do is to make him feel as safe as possible. But he's better than when I was summoned last night," Wilson stated with a sigh.

"He scared us all; I thought someone was attacking him until I saw him sitting up, hugging his knees screaming. We couldn't get through to him and then the guards came running in at the commotion. I'm glad we were able to get him pinned down so you could give him a shot. You look like you need a break, I'll get someone to sit with him," Hogan said sitting his coffee cup on the table.

"If Wilkerson is available that would be the best choice, then either Brown or Reynolds. Sir, I know why only select missions are being carried out, but would it be possible to get an airdrop from London? I really need additional medications to take care of him, and I'm running low on what I have." Wilson requested not stopping the gentle rubbing.

Hogan exhaled making his decision, "Give Kinch a list. Anything we can't get from London, we'll buy off the black market." He wasn't happy about sending men out of camp with the vigilantes still prowling the woods. The group had struck again after the air raid two days ago; but this time a British soldier never made it out of his tangled parachute. Hogan had sent four men out to gather anyone they could find, and they found the Brit dead. Although his identity discs were gone, his name was on his jacket and they'd been able to inform London. Examining the area, Newkirk said there appeared to be three attackers and none of the wounds looked like they'd been made with a firearm. That's when Hogan decided anyone outside the wire would be armed and in groups of three to four.

The Colonel made his way to Barracks Eight thinking that only a week ago, they'd celebrated Mason's sixteenth birthday and things had been good with him until the nightmares started again. He had to send the boy back to England where he could get the help he desperately needed, but that couldn't be done until Gibson left. General Butler said he'd have more information in a few days. It couldn't come soon enough for Kinch or Hogan. Hogan knocked on Wilkerson's door; hearing an 'Enter' he went into the room to find Wilkerson and Brown talking.

"How can I help you, sir?" Wilkerson asked.

"Am I interrupting?" Hogan hoped they weren't in a counseling session.

"Not at all, we were just making up the schedule for who keeps Gibson and Stevens under surveillance for the next few days," Wilkerson answered with a smile.

"Wilson needs to be relieved with Mason, and wanted to know if you have time to sit with him for a while," Hogan explained.

"Of course, sir," Wilkerson replied, leaving the barracks with Hogan.

"Tell me what Gibson, Stevens, and Rays have been up too," Hogan ordered as the men walked.

"Gibson has been on his best behavior, too good if you ask me. He's up to something, but I haven't figured out what it is yet. He's given the slip to his watchers a couple of times, which has me concerned so we're going to try having two people observe him from different areas. Stevens hasn't caused any problems, he's friendly enough, and I can't give you a specific reason, but my gut says not to trust him," Wilkerson explained.

"Trust your gut, I do. What about Rays?"

"I haven't been able to causally get him alone for very long, Stevens or Gibson are always hanging around. Rays will open up some but as soon as he sees either one of them, he clams up again. He knows something that the other two want kept quiet. I know it's too soon to send any of them out on a work detail, but do you have any suggestions on separating them so I can talk to Rays without raising suspicion?"

"Let me think about it and I'll find a way to separate them," Hogan promised as both men entered Barracks Two. Hogan took his coffee cup and went back into his office.

* * *

Kinch had spent most of his time in the tunnels helping to dig out the collapsed tunnel, or in the radio room avoiding as much contact with Gibson as possible. Afraid if confronted again, he'd kill the bastard with his bare hands. In the last week, he'd talked more about his father's death than he'd ever done in his lifetime. Somebody was always around and as much of a hassle as it was, part of Kinch was glad for the company. He'd never felt so vulnerable and lost in his life, feelings he was unsure how to handle. His friends seemed to know exactly when he needed to talk, even if he didn't. The day after Gibson arrived, the nightmares started for him. He would dream about the last few moments of his father's life, the fear he saw in both of his parents, and what he felt as a small child. Hogan had him sleep in his room on the lower bunk giving Kinch a measure of privacy. When he woke with sweat pouring down, Hogan would talk with him until Kinch could fall back to sleep.

It was all becoming too much and Kinch wondered if he was ever going to be normal again. Two days ago, he was surprised when Carter came down to the radio room and sat with him.

"I really need to be alone right now," he snapped.

"I know that's what you believe, but I'm only here to help," Carter answered with a sad smile.

"Seriously, you should leave," Kinch started only to be betrayed as a tear escaped his eye. Horrified, he brushed it away quickly. He'd not cried since Hogan found him in tunnel.

"Don't try to hold them back. There's a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love,*" Carter said gently.

"I loved my father. He was a great man, and I don't mean that because he was my father. He always found time to help others, while at the same time spending time with my sisters and me. If he was going to help someone, he took us along so we could be involved teaching us by example. He never turned anyone away in need, even though we had very little he always made sure others were taken care of before his own needs. I can't remember him ever complaining about anything. My hope growing up was that I could be half as good a man as my dad," Kinch found his tears flowed freely.

Carter reached over squeezing Kinch's hand, "You're more like your dad than your realize. You've exceeded your goal."

When his tears finally subsided, Kinch felt like himself again. The bad dreams stopped and he was once again sleeping in his own bunk.

* * *

Late afternoon Kinch stopped by Mason's bunk and checked in with Wilkerson to see how he was doing. Mason had been resting quietly for some time, and they'd hoped this episode had passed. He said he'd sit with Mason this evening but he had to do something first. Kinch grabbed his boxing gloves out of his locker and made his way over to the gym**. It had taken him some time to realize his life's work would be to have Gibson answer for his crime in a court of law. Part of him still wanted revenge, but his father wouldn't approve of such actions. No, to honor his father, he needed to do this the right way. Waiting for the General's call was an exercise that was testing his patience. He needed to do something to work out the excess energy, so he taped up his wrists then put on his boxing gloves. Losing all track of time; every hit of the bag was a punch at the men who destroyed his family. In his mind, every one of them was locked away for rest of their lives in prison. Exhausted, he sat down removing his gloves, taking a long drink of cool water out of a canteen. Hearing the door open, Kinch looked up.

"I see they allow you to use the facilities, Sergeant _boy_," Gibson said coming inside, the door swinging open behind him.

"What do you want?" Kinch asked keeping his face neutral.

"Saw you pounding on that bag through the window, and thought maybe you needed a sparring partner," Gibson smirked walking around the room.

"That will never happen."

"Yeah, you know that I'd beat the shit out of you. I've been watching for you, but you seem to stay inside your barracks most of the time. Why is that? Are you only allowed out on certain days? Or is it because you know what is waiting for you out here?" Gibson picked up a training stick waving it through the air.

"Get the hell out of here," Kinch ordered standing up.

"You don't have the right to tell me what to do!" Gibson fumed moving closer to Kinch. He twirled the stick nearly hitting Kinch with it. Kinch easily grabbed it tossing it across the room. "That wasn't wise. If you're smart, you'll start acting according to your breeding."

"You're a pathetic loser who can only make noisy threats when no one is around," Kinch threw his hands up in disgust turning to leave. Before he made it to the door, Gibson sucker punched him. Kinch went down hard; his head hitting the door frame. He lay unconscious with a pool of blood encircling his head.

* * *

*Washington Irving, TAPS Magazine, Tragedy Assistance Program for Survivors – www dot TAPS dot org TAPS is a military support group for anyone who has lost a loved one in US military service.

** Episode Get Fit or Go Fight, Klink worked out in the gym. I'm borrowing the same gym for this story.


	8. Chapter 8

**Yesterday's Memories**

**By**

**Jennaya**

* * *

Gibson stood over Kinch thinking how easy it would be to kill him right now; unfortunately, if he did then Kinch wouldn't suffer the way Gibson wanted him too.

"Put your hands up!" Gibson was startled by the guard's order and found he was at the business end of two rifles. "Hands up," Schultz repeated, forcefully. Bruno pointed his rifle menacingly at Gibson. When Gibson complied, Schultz started yelling for guards to help them, and eight guards quickly ran over. Pointing to three, Schultz gave out orders, "You go get the Kommandant, you get Colonel Hogan, and you go bring Sergeant Wilson." The men scattered to complete their assigned task.

Langenscheidt ran as quickly as possible to Barracks Two barging through the door. He stood supporting himself with his hand on the door frame breathing heavy. Everyone inside looked over at the guard as he tried to calm his breathing.

"What's wrong mate?" Newkirk asked, alarmed. Olsen summoned Hogan out of his office.

"Sergeant Kinchloe has been injured at the gym. A new prisoner did it," Langenscheidt said between winded breaths.

Before he could say another word Hogan ordered, "Stay here." He left the barracks in a run with Newkirk, LeBeau, and Carter following him; Langenscheidt walked quickly behind. Arriving at the gym, Hogan saw Wilson kneeling beside Kinch attending to him. "What happened?" he demanded.

"That's exactly what I want to know," Klink said, arriving last taking in the scene.

"He attacked me, I had to defend myself," Gibson replied, angrily.

"WHAT?" Hogan's tone and face was of utter disbelief. "Wilson, how is he?"

"He's alive, I'll let you know more when I can," Wilson replied not looking away from his patient.

"Sergeant, start at the beginning and tell me exactly what happened," Klink ordered moving the pertinent parties away from Kinch, so Wilson could have the room he needed. Plus blood always made Klink queasy, and he didn't want to be looking at it while conducting his investigation. Hogan's men stayed to help the medic.

"I came in to use the gym and Sergeant Kinchloe demanded that I leave. I told him we could both use the facilities but that's when he came after me. I defended myself and he fell into the door frame. I didn't mean to hurt him, but I wasn't going to let him hurt me either," Gibson said, appearing contrite.

"Do you know what the penalty for fighting is? You'll both spend time in the cooler!" Klink was angry.

"You shouldn't lie to the Kommandant. That's not a nice thing to do," Schultz said, stepping up.

"What do you mean?" Klink asked, confused.

"He wasn't here. Are you going to believe me or him?" Gibson threw out. Swallowing hard, he realized that was the wrong thing to say watching Klink, Hogan, and Schultz's faces.

"Of course I'd believe my head guard over a prisoner! Schultz, explain what you mean," Klink ordered, his face hard.

"Herr Kommandant, Sergeant Kinchloe had been in here for over an hour using the punching bag. You can see his wrists are still wrapped and his gloves are on the bench. He was not causing any trouble. Then this one barged into the gym, the door was left open so we could see. They had words and Gibson tried to hit Kinch with a stick, but Kinch grabbed it away tossing it in the corner. See, it's still there. At that time, Bruno and I were making our way over in case there was trouble. I don't know what Gibson said to Kinchloe, but Kinchloe held his hands up in a non-threatening manner then walked away. Gibson hit him from behind knocking him into the door frame. Sergeant Kinchloe did everything he could to avoid a fight," Schultz explained.

"Herr Oberst, there's no marks on this one. I know from personal experience if Kinch hit him, he'd be the one down," Bruno interjected.*

"Do you and Kinch have some type of history? Why did you attack him?" Klink demanded. Hogan shook his head slightly telling Gibson not to bring up the past.

"No, we'd never met before this place. He's just a piece of trash that doesn't know his place or how to mind his manners. I'm sure as a German you understand these things," Gibson tried to ingratiate himself to Klink.

Klink stood up a little taller, anger protruding from every pore in his body. He heard that type of talk too much from his own people and never bought into the propaganda. "Sergeant Kinchloe has never caused any trouble. He follows the rules; he's courteous, and helpful to his fellow prisoners. You have been here for a short time and have broken almost all the rules. We'll put an end to that. Schultz, take him away. Forty-eight hours in the cooler will teach him that my rules are to be obeyed at all times," Klink ordered.

"You can't be serious! Time in the cooler for this?" Gibson was shocked.

"Make it five days in solitary confinement, and loss of all privileges for another ten days," Klink fumed. How _dare_ a prisoner back talk him.

"I'd suggest shutting your mouth before he extends your sentence," Hogan ordered before Gibson could respond. "Once you're out, you'll have to deal with me."

"You're supposed to be helping me out in this situation, _sir,_" Gibson blew up at Hogan. "And you're just a n*gg*r lover like Hogan," Gibson threw at Klink enraged. He couldn't take anymore and swung at Hogan hoping to hit both Colonels since they stood side by side.

Hogan blocked his punch, twisted him, and had Gibson on the ground with his arms pinned behind him before anyone got hurt. "Calm down," he ordered as Gibson fought to get away. Suddenly a pair of German handcuffs was in front of his face. Hogan looked up to see Schultz handing them to him. With no other options to keeping the situation from escalating anymore than it already was Hogan placed the handcuffs on Gibson.

"Take him away under heavy guard," Klink ordered, shaken. "I'll start the paperwork on his transfer. There's no room for troublemakers here." Two guards picked Gibson up and hauled him to the cooler. Gibson yelled obscenities at everyone the entire trip. Schultz led him to a cell without a tunnel entrance. He knew which ones that the prisoners never stayed in very long.

"Newkirk and Carter, would you help me get Kinch back to the barracks?" Wilson asked

"How is he?" Hogan asked kneeling down beside his men. Kinch was semi-conscious.

"He'll be all right, but he has a major concussion. He'll be out of it for a while. Kommandant, he won't be able to make roll call for at least 24 hours," Wilson stood up moving over allowing Newkirk and Carter to put Kinch on the stretcher.

"Very well, but you know the rules. Schultz will have to verify he's here for each roll call. I want to be kept up to date on his condition," Klink ordered turning to go back to his office.

"Yes, sir," Wilson replied.

"I'll be there soon. Put him in my room if you think that would be better. I have to talk Klink out of the transfer," Hogan said. He quickly walked over to the Kommandantur. Personally he'd like Gibson out of the picture, but that wouldn't help Kinch in the long run. "Kommandant?" Hogan knocked on his door as he opened it.

"What do you want?" Klink responded tersely, transfer paperwork already pulled out.

"I wanted to apologize for what Gibson did, sir. There's no excuse for such behavior," Hogan sat down in front of the desk.

"Did you know he was this volatile?"

"No, sir, or I would have brought it to your attention. I thought he was just having a hard time adjusting to being a prisoner. I still think that's mostly what caused today's scene."

"There's over a thousand men here and none of them ever acted like him. Don't worry he'll be gone by morning," Klink indicated the paperwork on his desk.

"Are you sure that's wise, sir?" Hogan asked looking confused.

"Of course I am. I will not have someone so blatantly disrespectful in my camp. I hear enough of that nonsense from other sources," Klink retorted.

"If you say so, sir," Hogan started to stand up.

"What do you mean?" Klink asked watching Hogan carefully.

"It's none of my business," Hogan replied picking his cap up heading for the door.

"Sit down and tell me exactly what you meant," Klink ordered.

"Yes, sir. I was concerned for you with the vigilantes still out there. Trying to transfer a prisoner right now might be dangerous. What if they attacked the truck and took the prisoner? Who knows, they might also kill the guards. Obviously they've outsmarted the Gestapo, so Major Hochstetter would blame you if a prisoner was captured by the vigilantes. He has to have someone to pin the crime on until he finds everyone involved. Then General Burkhalter would get involved, and you could end up at the Russian Front. However, if you waited on the transfer until after the Gestapo have everything resolved there'd be no danger. But as you say, you know best," Hogan carefully laid his trap.

Klink thought it over before responding, "Perhaps it would be best to allow Gibson to learn from his time in solitary before any other actions are taken. We wouldn't want him to think he could try to escape during a transfer, or that he could get a transfer to another camp so easily."

"That's brilliant, sir! When he gets out, he'll be on grounds detail from dawn to dusk and too tired to cause any more trouble."

"Very well, I'll let you handle that part of his punishment. Dismissed," Klink said.

* * *

Hogan entered his hut asking about Kinch standing by his bunk.

"He'll be all right, sir. He's resting now, and the men know what to do for him. I should get back to my barracks before curfew. If you need me for anything, come get me," Wilson answered casting a glance at his other patient.

Hogan looked over; Mason was sitting up on his bunk a few feet over. "How are you doing?" Hogan asked gently, moving over by the young man.

"I want to apologize for causing trouble. I'm really sorry," Mason said looking down at the floor.

"There's no reason for you to apologize," Hogan assured him placing a hand on his shoulder. "We're just glad you're doing better."

"I heard what happened to Kinch. I'd like to sit with him for a while," Mason actually looked Hogan in the face.

"I think he'd like that," Hogan gave his approval with a nod. Mason sat down next to Kinch. Hogan couldn't help but smile, even on a really bad day, miracles happened.

* * *

* Episode – The Softer They Fall


	9. Chapter 9

**Yesterday's Memories**

**By**

**Jennaya**

* * *

Kinch woke up in the middle of the night to Mason still holding his hand, but leaning against the bedpost asleep. He couldn't help but smile at the sight. "Mason," he said quietly shaking the young man. "You need to lie down and get some rest."

Mason woke up rubbing his eyes, "You're awake. Do you need anything?"

"Just for you to lie down and get some sleep, I'm all right," Kinch said trying not to grimace at the headache pounding between his ears.

LeBeau appeared beside the pair, "Mon ami, how are you feeling?"

"A bit confused. What happened?" Kinch shifted trying to sit up; he grabbed the edge of the bed as the room spun.

"Easy. Gibson sucker punched you," LeBeau explained as he put a hand on Kinch steadying him.

"It must have been some punch. What happened to him?"

"He's in the cooler. Newkirk said it was a cell without a tunnel entrance," Mason answered.

"Good," Kinch replied laying back down rubbing his head.

"Wilson left some medicines for your headache. Would you like aspirin or something stronger?" LeBeau asked, worriedly.

"The strongest you have," Kinch answered with his eyes closed. Opening them he added, "Thanks for staying with me, Roy, but you need some rest too."

"I think I might lie down for a while, but I'll be close if you need anything," Mason said trying to stifle a yawn.

"I'll sit with him," LeBeau assured Mason as he gave Kinch the injection.

"How's he been?" Kinch watched the young man lay down on his bunk quickly falling back to sleep.

"He asked the Colonel if he could sit with you, and did for several hours," LeBeau said.

"I'm impressed. What was in that?" Kinch asked as the medicine made him want to close his eyes.

"I'm not sure; it's something Wilson added last minute to the air drop. Carter and Newkirk brought it in earlier. Get some sleep," LeBeau said watching Kinch lose the battle for consciousness.

* * *

After roll call, Schultz took breakfast from the mess hall to Gibson. The night guard unlocked the door waiting while Schultz placed the food on the table. He dismissed the other guard and sat down outside Gibson's cell. "Did you have a good night?"

"In this place? Hell no. Why do you care?" Gibson spat out.

"You wouldn't be here if you hadn't gotten out of hand yesterday. Fighting and lying. Such naughty things," Schultz said sounding disappointed.

Gibson shook his head in amusement; it was like the Kraut thought he was a child that needed scolding. "Well I won't be in this place much longer. Klink said he was transferring me," Gibson said disappointingly. He'd not have a chance to finish Kinch off now.

"I believe Colonel Hogan got the Kommandant to change his mind. You're staying here. And you should be glad, some of the camps are bad," Schultz told him.

"What do you mean bad? Can they be any worse than here?"

"Oh here things are good for the prisoners. Colonel Hogan makes sure of it. Every barracks has running water and stoves. The prisoners are fed well. In some of the camps the prisoners only eat a couple of times a day and the rations are worse. Some camps have no one to fight for them like Colonel Hogan does for his men. Prisoners who cause a lot of problems or have escape attempts get sent to one very bad place," Schultz explained.

"What do you mean by a bad place?"

"It's not run by the Luftwaffe, but by the SS. Every prisoner is in a cell that's worse than anything in our cooler. They're smaller, have no furniture just some hay on the floor. The prisoners get no blankets and are only fed meager rations once a day. You should be grateful that Colonel Hogan fought so hard to keep you here," Schultz explained.

"I don't like being locked up, it makes me nuts," Gibson answered, thinking how bad one of those other places could be. He could hardly stand this place and by comparison this was grand.

"When you get out of the cooler then you'll have your freedom back. You'll be able to walk around in the sun and make friends. You should apologize to Sergeant Kinchloe, he's a nice man," Schultz said watching Hogan walk into the cooler. Gibson didn't respond.

"I'd like to talk to him," Hogan said pulling out a candy bar.

"I need to take his tray back to the kitchen anyway," Schultz stuffed the candy in his pocket and opened the door taking the tray. Hogan followed him in the cell. "You want to talk to him in here alone?"

"Yes, don't hurry back," Hogan requested. Schultz looked from Hogan to Gibson with worried concern. He hoped there was no more trouble because he'd get in lots of trouble. When Schultz left, Hogan took the chair, turned it backwards, and sat down straddling it. Gibson sat on the cot with one leg on the ground.

"What do you want, sir?" Gibson asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I want to hear your side of the story," Hogan said folding his arms on the top of the chair.

"You heard it yesterday."

"I meant what happened in Atlanta in 1928," Hogan clarified, watching Gibson closely.

"I was 16 and as I remember there was this girl with bright red hair. What she was willing to do would astound you," Gibson responded with a smirk.

"What happened between you and the Kinchloe family?" Hogan asked, dryly.

"No idea what you're referring to, sir," Gibson said with a blank face, but fury could be seen behind his eyes. How he disliked this man with his fondness of the trash in the camp.

Hogan nodded his head, Gibson wouldn't reveal anything incriminating. He really didn't expect him to, "Then why did you attack Sergeant Kinchloe yesterday?"

"The guard was lying. I defended myself," Gibson crossed his arms defiantly.

"That's not what Kinch said happened. And he's my second in command. His account is the same as Schultz's and I believe both of them. I'm trying to give you a chance to clear the air. We all have to live together until we're out of this place. The type of aggression you've shown will only get you in serious trouble. Unless you're careful you'll be in here until the end of the war or sent somewhere worse. I can only talk Klink out of a transfer occasionally, and you used up your free pass. Anymore outbursts and I'll make sure you're outta here so fast you won't know what happened. So use the time in here to get your head in order," Hogan ordered.

"How the hell is he your second in command? There are men with much higher ranks here!"

"How I choose my staff isn't of your concern," Hogan said, firmly.

"Why would you even care or try to keep the Kraut from transferring me? You're both fond of the trash."

"It's my job to protect the men in this camp, _all_ the men, and you're not making it easy. Just so you know, I'll be watching you, and if I hear anymore talk like that, I'll make your life a living hell," Hogan promised then stood and knocked on the door. Gibson stared with daggers in his eyes, but didn't respond. Schultz opened the door letting him out. Hogan walked around the camp trying to calm down. Gibson was dangerous and he had to get him out of the camp soon.

Once calm he checked on Kinch, who was sleeping peacefully with Mason keeping vigil. When Mason arrived he was the most damaged person brought to camp. Hogan wanted to send him home immediately but it wasn't a viable option. There was no way Mason would have been able to make it to the sub and no reason to bring in a courier plane. Courier planes were dangerous assignments for the crew and reserved for mission critical events only. So Wilkerson started working with him as he did with the others in Barracks Eight, and it seemed to have worked. Mason still had a long road ahead of him, but Hogan was hopeful he'd make it.

The Colonel made his way to the downstairs radio room asking Baker to make contact with London hoping for an update. Unfortunately, the General was out of the office and wouldn't be back for two days. The waiting was killing him. Normally he had patience, but this was too close to home and Gibson had a way of getting under his skin. At least now, Wilkerson would have no problem separating Stevens and Rays.

* * *

Mid-afternoon Wilson walked into Barracks Two to find Kinch sitting at the table with LeBeau. "You look better than I expected. How are you feeling?" he asked, sitting his bag down on the table next to his patient.

"Still have a bit of a headache, but it's not as bad as last night," Kinch answered, inwardly groaning about being prodded by the medic.

"Have you been taking anything for the headache?" Wilson asked as he shined a small flashlight in Kinch's eyes watching for a reaction.

"Had some aspirin a couple of hours ago. Haven't needed anything else today," Kinch shrugged closing his eyes to the bright light.

"Well your pupils are back to normal. I'd like for you to take it easy for a few days and not over do it," Wilson put his penlight away. "How's Mason been today?"

"Nervous and a bit rattled, but hasn't had any more episodes," LeBeau replied pouring Wilson a cup of coffee.

"Where is he?"

"Reynolds took him to help with something. Not sure what they're up too. In a lot of ways, he reminds me of a younger version of myself," Kinch said.

"How so, mon ami?"

"There was a time after we moved to Detroit that I was scared of my own shadow," Kinch started.

* * *

"Come on, you're being slow pokes," Billy tried to get his younger brother and best friend to hurry. "I want to get home, so I can get my homework done."

"You mean you want to go to Alice's house and help her with homework," Mickey teased his brother.

"I don't think it's really homework he's interested in," James smirked.

"She's just a girl, why do you want to hang around her?" Mickey asked as the boys cut through a field.

"A couple of more years and you'll understand," Billy replied. "Race you!" All three boys started running through the field. When they got to the edge of the next street three older white boys appeared out of the bushes.

"Where do you think you're going?" the ring leader asked shoving Mickey.

"Leave my brother alone. He's only a kid. Mickey, James, get out of here," Billy stood between the younger boys and the bullies. One of the bullies hit him and Billy stood his ground easily decking the taller boy knocking him down. Then all three boys started hitting him and all that could be seen was a fury of fists.

James backed up until he ran into a tree. He wanted to help but was paralyzed with fear sinking down to the ground. He didn't even realize that Billy who was a year younger than him had gone for help. Four men showed up including James's stepfather breaking the fight up.

Once they'd forced the older boys to leave, Eugene knelt down next to James. "Are you all right? Were you hurt?" he asked looking for bleeding or bruises. James didn't respond until Eugene shook him to get his attention. For the first time James saw him, and put his arms around the man's neck; Eugene held him feeling the shake in his young body. "It's okay, you're safe. They're gone. Let's get you home." Eugene helped him stand and put a protective arm around James's shoulder, neither one saying a word on the trip home. When they arrived home, James ran to his room slamming the door shut. Eugene explained what happened to his wife, then knocked on James's bedroom door. He didn't receive an answer, so he opened the door to find James sitting on the bed. He sat down by James.

"I'm a coward," James said with anger in his voice.

"Now why would you think something like that?"

"Mickey went and got help. He's only eleven. I just stood there and didn't help at all," James fought back the tears.

"Oh I see," Eugene said calmly. "Those boys were at least four inches taller than you and outnumbered you. What do you think you should have done?"

"I don't know. Something besides act like a baby. I don't even know how to fight," James punched at the wall.

"You didn't act like a baby. It was a scary situation and it's normal for people to be scared," Eugene started.

"You don't get scared!"

"Yes, I do," he answered with a gentle smile. "Everyone gets scared."

"Do you think daddy was scared?" James looked up at his stepfather with tears pouring down his face.

"I'm sure he was," Eugene said softly putting an arm around the boy. He knew that was the real problem.

"Daddy knew what to do. He fought them hard. I'll never be able to fight anyone off."

Eugene pursed his lips thinking, "How would you like to learn to box? I know someone who would teach you."

"Really? Like with gloves and everything?" James answered wiping his face.

"Yes, just like at the boxing match we went to last month," Eugene answered with a gentle smile. "If you want I'll set it up and you can go tomorrow after school."

* * *

"That's when my boxing career started," Kinch said taking a drink of his coffee.

"Eugene was your dad's best friend, right?" LeBeau asked.

"Yes, he married my mom about a year after my dad died. That's when we moved to Detroit. Boxing gave me a way to work out what happened to my dad and gave me back my confidence. I'm wondering if it might do the same thing for Mason," Kinch said, stifling a yawn.

"Why don't you ask him if he'd be interested? Sounds like a good idea to me," Wilson answered. "Right now, I think it'd be a good time for you to rest."

"I'll ask him. Maybe I will lay down for a little while," Kinch said moving over to the bunk he used to allow others access to the tunnels below.


	10. Chapter 10

**Yesterday's Memories**

**By**

**Jennaya**

* * *

Wilkerson entered Barracks Eight getting everyone's attention. "All right you lazy bums there's work to be done. Palmer, Casey, Brown, Stevens, meet Sergeant Dumont by the wood stacks. Rays, the medic wants to see you. The rest of you have grounds work," he ordered. Grounds work was their code for digging out the collapsed tunnel.

"I'll walk you over, Thomas," Stevens said.

"Rays can find his way to the medic," Wilkerson stated. Stevens stood still, obviously trying to decide what to do. "Is there a problem, Corporal?"

Stevens opened his mouth and then shut it, "No, Sarge."

"Then get going," Wilkerson ordered. He and Brown shared a knowing look as the Corporals left the barracks. They would keep Stevens busy and away from the infirmary no matter what.

"Do you know why Sergeant Wilson wants to see me again?" Rays asked when they were alone.

"He's a careful medic. Until that cast is off, he'll probably see you on a weekly basis. Too many opportunities to catch a nasty infection in this place," Wilkerson answered as they walked to the infirmary.

When both men entered the infirmary, Rays immediately knew something was up. "Have a seat," Hogan said pointing to the two empty seats near him at the desk. Wilson was nowhere to be seen.

"What's going on, sir?" Rays asked, nervously fidgeting near the front door.

"Let's sit down," Wilkerson put a hand on Rays' shoulder guiding him over to Hogan.

"It's time we have a talk," Hogan started.

"About what sir," Rays was visibly worried as he sat down.

"Tell me the story of how your arm was broken," Hogan requested.

"It happened in the bailout; nothing really to tell, sir," Rays' discomfort level obviously went up several notches.

"Then it'll be a short conversation," Hogan said with a soft smile.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Is there a reason I shouldn't know?" Hogan asked with a raised eyebrow.

Rays looked down picking at the chair he sat in. "It happened in the plane before I was able to bailout."

"Tell us about the battle. What was your position? How did your plane get hit," Wilkerson asked, casting a glance at Hogan. Hogan nodded his head almost imperceptibly understanding what the Master Sergeant was doing.

"We'd dropped our load and were heading home, but didn't get far. Messerschmitts came out of nowhere blocking our retreat. The lieutenant tried to climb out of their reach but they were all over the place. I was in the turret and was it scary. I could see bullets flying all over the place from other planes, and I'd never realized how easily we could be hit from friendly fire as enemy fire," Rays explained.

"Were you hit by friendly fire?" Hogan asked, causally.

"No, sir, it was enemy fire. I couldn't see it, but the tail gunner saw a Messerschmitt aiming directly at us in a dive. He tried to take it out, but Daniel didn't make it. When he was hit our plane was crippled by that damn German plane," Rays said with anger.

"He was a friend of yours?" Wilkerson asked.

"Yeah, a good friend, we went through basic together. Never thought he'd die," Rays answered softly taking a deep breath.

"What happened next?" Hogan urged him to go on.

"The lieutenant ordered everyone to bailout, so I climbed out of the turret. Then the plane got hit by shock waves of another plane exploding and everyone got thrown up against the side. Our pilot was doing his best to hold the plane in the air to give us time to get out. I don't know if he made it out or not. I hope so," Rays explained.

"When you where thrown by the shock waves, is that when your arm was broken?" Wilkerson inquired.

"No, it happened before then," Rays dropped his head.

"As you were climbing out of the turret?" Hogan questioned.

"Yes, sir."

"How?"

Rays took a deep breath and sighed. "Gibson did it."

"Was it accidental?" Hogan asked, already knowing the answer.

"No, he kicked me because I was in the way between him and the exit. But you can't say anything, because he told me that he and Stevens would break my neck if anyone ever found out," Rays said quickly, with panic in his voice.

"Don't worry, we won't let them know or let them hurt you again," Hogan promised.

"I wish Stevens had been locked up instead of Gibson," Rays volunteered.

"Why do you say that?" Hogan wanted to know.

"Gibson's a hothead and impulsive. Stevens is…well…he's scary," Rays admitted.

"How do you mean?" Wilkerson pushed a little.

"I don't know, he's just intimidating," Rays shrugged his shoulders obviously shutting down. Both men knew they wouldn't get any more information out of the Private for now.

Wilson came into the infirmary and Hogan waved him over. "He's going to check you out, so you can honestly say you saw the medic. Then you can go back to your barracks or do whatever you want," Hogan told the young man. The Colonel and Wilkerson left the infirmary. "Looks like your instincts were right about Stevens."

"I'll keep trying to get more information out of him. Do we have enough for Gibson to stand trial yet?"

"Oh yeah, but my gut says to wait on the General. Right now, he'd get a couple of years for the assaults on both men. He deserves more," Hogan explained.

"I agree. How is Kinch today?"

"The headache seems to have gone away and he's pretty much back to himself. What concerns me is that Gibson gets out of the cooler tomorrow," Hogan said as the duo walked around the compound.

"We'll keep an eye on all three of them, sir," Wilkerson promised.

* * *

"How did you get so lucky to bring me dinner?" Gibson asked Stevens as he sat the tray down.

"I volunteered," he chuckled. "Plus I gave the fat guard some food from the mess hall."

"I'm supposed to get out of here in the morning, but knowing Hogan he'll find some way of keeping me in here," Gibson groused as he ate.

"Why do you think that?"

"He's a trash lover. And he knows what happened. It seems Kinchloe can't keep his damn mouth shut! We'll have to do something about Hogan," he said between bites.

"He can't do anything with information, its hearsay. Forget him. Kinch is the real problem. I've watched him and he has a routine. Everyday about an hour before dusk he goes to the gym to work out alone. But the interesting part is that there's a pad locked recreation hall right behind the gym. Someone told me Klink does that when the prisoners have been out of line and it'll be locked for another week. The lock is a joke and took me a couple of seconds to get in there," Stevens explained wiggling his fingers.

"What are you thinking?" Gibson asked with bated breath.

"We wait for Kinch to finish his workout so he's tired, pull him into the recreation hall, and work him over. I found some rags in there that we can gag him with so no one hears him scream," Stevens spelled out his plan.

"Once we kill him, then we have to get out of camp or they'll string us up. Have you figured that one out?" Gibson asked pacing the cell.

"We'll have about an hour until it's completely dark. There's a cemetery at the back of the camp and the lock on the gate is about as good as the building's lock. All we have to do is avoid the searchlights on our way out, slip into the woods then make for the coast. What do you think?"

"You've been busy. There are a few lose ends. We'll have to figure out what to do with Rays, and if there's a chance I still want to take Hogan out," Gibson said.

"Forget about Hogan. If we killed an officer, they'd hunt us down. Once they find Kinch's body, we'll be so far away from here they won't even care to look anymore. Rays is too scared to talk; anyhow, he knows what will happen if he ever does. We don't have to worry about him. By the time the war is over, everyone will have long forgotten about us. Besides, as returning escaped prisoners, the army will rotate us out of Europe and send us home heroes," Stevens smirked. Schultz opened the cell door making Stevens leave.

"See you tomorrow," Gibson waved goodbye. The plan had merit, and Kinch's death would make all he'd been through worth it. He laid down on the cot planning exactly how he'd extract revenge on Kinch. And if the opportunity presented itself take out Hogan too.


	11. Chapter 11

**Yesterday's Memories**

**By**

**Jennaya**

* * *

"Now that we have your hands taped, you can put on the gloves. It's always important that your hands are taped properly to keep them protected," Kinch said putting the tape away.

"Thanks for showing me how to do this," Mason was excited as Kinch showed him some basic moves. "What's this drawing on the bag?" He pointed towards a circle on the punching bag.

"It's a face."

"Whose face?"

"Anyone who has pissed me off at the time, it changes depending on my mood," Kinch explained.

"I bet Gibson was that face."

"Yes, he has been. Newkirk was on the bag last week," Kinch answered with a grin, changing the subject.

"What did Newkirk do?" Mason was surprised.

"He's a great friend but sometimes gets under my skin, especially when we play with his deck of cards," Kinch answered with a wink.

"I thought there was something strange about the way he always wins. So his cards are marked?" Mason asked.

"Can't prove it, but if you want a chance to win, use your own cards," Kinch laughed. "Who should the face be for you today?"

"I don't think his face deserves to be there, but…," Mason's lower lip trembled.

"I think that's a good place to start," Kinch said softly as he held the bag while Roy hit it.

"He's a good man, someone I respect, but he's wrong, and what he wants to do won't help," Mason hit the bag hard.

"What does he want to do?" Kinch asked, confused.

"Colonel Hogan wants to send me home. That would be bad, really bad," Mason stopped hitting the bag and hung his head.

"I think your family would be happy to see you. I'm sure your folks are worried," Kinch said standing close.

"I've been a prisoner for almost a year, and in the entire time I've never had a letter. No one cares that I'm here," he hit the bag forcefully. Kinch didn't know that and was at a loss for words, so he let Mason continue at his own pace talking and punching. "My family isn't what you'd call a good family. My pa left when I was five and we haven't heard from him since. Not long after Roger turned seventeen, our mom left with some man she picked up in a bar. She said we were old enough to fend for ourselves. We went to live with Aunt Emma, mom's sister, she took us in for a while but has eight kids of her own, and her husband wasn't happy about two more mouths to feed. Roger got his girlfriend, Rosemarie, pregnant and Aunt Emma kicked us both out. She said we were as worthless as our father. Roger was going to join the army until he found out about the baby; so instead he married Rosemarie and took a job with the migrant farm workers. They travel around from place to place and have no real home. I was fourteen and a half with nowhere to go. All I knew was that I didn't want to pick crops my entire life, so I took Roger's paperwork and showed up at the enlistment office. They put me on a bus to boot camp. The Army is the only home I have. If Colonel Hogan sends me back to the States then I'll be out on the streets with nothing. He can't send me home, he just can't," Mason broke down and Kinch put an arm around him.

"Don't worry, we'll figure something out," Kinch said with mist in his own eyes. Could this kid not get a break? "The Colonel wants to do what's best for you. Trust him and give him some time, it'll work out." He repeated the familiar words Hogan had told Kinch a few days ago.

"Do you trust him with Gibson?" Mason asked.

Kinch could see in Mason's eyes there was a lot more to that question; it was almost as if Mason's entire future hung on the balance of his answer. "Yes, I trust him completely. And he's been right so far. I know everything will work out for both of us," Kinch said with heartfelt honesty. Mason wiped his face on his sleeve and went back to hitting the bag. After a few moments of silence, Kinch asked, "Who's on the bag now?"

"Fleischer," Mason said so softly that Kinch barely heard the name.

"He brought you to camp. Did you have much contact with him?" Kinch asked, watching the young man closely.

"Too much…," Mason punched the bag. "He's a monster. A bloody monster." Mason continued to hit the bag, but didn't verbalize what Fleischer had put him through at the SS facility. He wasn't ready yet; however, flashes of the torture and pain he'd endured went through his mind. He continued punching the bag until he was exhausted letting out a string of English curse words that would have made Newkirk blush. Kinch would have to have a talk with Newkirk; Mason was picking up the wrong habits from the Englander.

* * *

"Butler's on the radio, sir," Kinch said handing Hogan the headset. They were late getting to this call because Schultz wanted to talk well past lights out. Hogan had finally forced the German out of the barracks threatening to tell him about the monkey business they were doing.

"Good to hear from you, sir," Hogan started sitting down on the stool. He motioned for Kinch and Carter to stay. "What have you found out?"

"Quite a lot actually. It seems that trouble does follow Gibson around. I had to take a trip to the airbase he was stationed at to get some answers. About four months ago, a Private Lester Rowland, a black man, died in what was finally ruled as accidental. Gibson and Stevens were suspected in the death. The CO feels that those two had something to do with the death as well as the investigating officer; however, not enough evidence could be found and they were never formally charged. What do you think of taking a crack at the investigation from there?" Butler asked.

"I don't mind interrogating them, but I'm not sure how much good it will do," Hogan responded, slightly confused.

"One thing I haven't told you might help. There was another soldier who was close to Rowland. After the death, this man changed from an average soldier to withdrawn and scared. I'm hoping that you'll be able to find out what he knows," Butler explained.

"Who is the person?" Hogan asked.

"His name is Private Thomas Rays; I believe he's also in Stalag 13."

"Yes, sir, he is. I understand where you're going with this and I'll let you know what turns up," Hogan replied. Hogan knew Rays was holding back about those two but never expected something of this magnitude.

"Good. Anything you need to report?"

"Yes, sir, Gibson attacked Kinch a few days ago. Kinch is fine, but the attack was unprovoked. I found out that Gibson also broke Private Rays arm before they arrived in camp. When charges are brought against Gibson, I'd like both assaults to be included," Hogan explained.

"Damn. I was afraid he might try something. Glad to hear Kinch is all right. You have my word that he will be charged on both counts of assault. Anything else?"

"No, sir, not at this time," Hogan answered.

"I haven't heard anything other than the usual pointing finger in regards to Mason. Will you be sending him home with Gibson and Stevens?" the General asked.

"No, sir, I don't think that would be wise. I'll have to pick the right time to send him," he had enough to worry about with getting both men to the sub. After what Kinch had told him of Mason's family, Hogan had to rethink what should be done. Until he had a better plan, he decided to not inform the General.

"Very well, keep me updated. Butler out," the General replied and the radio went dead. Hogan repeated to Kinch and Carter what the General had told him.

"Rays said that Stevens was dangerous," Kinch said, shutting the radio down.

"That might explain why Rays is so scared of both of them. How do they expect us to get him to tell the truth if the MPs couldn't?" Carter asked.

"I'm not sure, but we have to try. I'll think of something." Hogan rubbed his head. How did he find himself in these situations?


	12. Chapter 12

**Yesterday's Memories**

**By**

**Jennaya**

* * *

Carter walked into Barracks Eight about an hour after morning roll call. Wilkerson stood up from the table as he entered. "What can we help you with?" He was half afraid something was going on with Mason.

"I'm looking for Private Rays. The Colonel wants to see him," Carter explained looking around the barracks. Rays was lying down on his bunk.

"Why?" Corporal Stevens asked, seated at the main table.

"Colonel Hogan didn't say, just ordered me to bring him," Carter replied causally with a shrug of his shoulders.

"I guess we should get going," Rays said sitting up putting his sling on.

"Want me to come with you?" Gibson asked, faking concern.

"The Colonel only sent for Rays," Carter replied, forcefully. There was no way Gibson was getting inside Barracks Two.

"Hey! He's my friend and he hasn't felt well today. If he needs help, I'll make sure he gets it," Gibson's voice was filled with defiance.

"Calm down," Wilkerson ordered. "I'm quite sure Sergeant Carter will ensure Rays is all right. If Rays needs assistance, Carter will let us know."

"Of course I would," Carter answered. He'd expected some type of adverse reaction from these two.

"There's nothing to worry about, I'm okay." Rays said stepping around Gibson carefully avoiding Stevens' stare, "Let's go."

"I need a cigarette," Stevens said stepping outside the barracks with Gibson following him right after Rays and Carter left. Wilkerson refused to allow anyone to smoke inside the barracks. "What do you think Hogan wants with him?"

"Not sure, you don't think he's talked, do you?" Gibson replied as the men stood around the corner of the barracks where they wouldn't be overheard.

"No, he's cowed. Besides what could Hogan do even if Rays talked? It's not like he could court-martial us. Hogan wouldn't tell the Germans anything; still it's worrisome for him to request Rays. If he talked to all the new prisoners, why weren't we summoned?"

"I told you Hogan was a problem. We should take care of him," Gibson made a fist and hit his other hand in a gesture of what he wanted to do to the Colonel.

"Forget about Hogan, he isn't worth it. We have to stay focused on what really matters. Once we escape, we'll have to figure out how to get back to England. I think we should try to steal some German uniforms, when we get to the coast we can toss them," Stevens tried to divert Gibson's attention. Sometimes his friend had tunnel vision until he got whatever it was out of his system.

"Yeah, suppose we should volunteer for laundry detail to start washing the German laundry," Gibson suggested.

"Sounds like a plan. You go do that and I'll keep an eye out for Rays return," Stevens said tossing his cigarette butt on the ground then going back inside the hut.

Gibson watched him go and when he was out of earshot said, "You might not like it, but I intend on making Hogan pay dearly." He turned to complete his task but found himself face to face with Newkirk.

"You go near the Gov'nor and it'll be the last thing you ever do," Newkirk said as he grabbed Gibson and tossed him against the building.

"Who the hell do you think you are," Gibson growled out.

"I'm your worst nightmare. No one touches me mates and you've already hurt Kinch. I oughtta take you out right here," the look in Newkirk's eyes scared Gibson. He had seen the same look in Stevens' eyes.

"You…you'd be killed by the Germans," Gibson stuttered to get out.

"Who gives a damn, they'd be safe from the likes of you," Newkirk pulled his pencil sharpener out from its hiding place.

"You wouldn't," Gibson gasped.

"Yes he would. And if he didn't I would," LeBeau threatened.

"What do you say Louie, should I cut his throat or just let the air out of him?"

"Why not both? Then we can cut him up. The dogs could use some fresh meat," LeBeau's voice was so cold that Gibson feared for his life.

"Fellas, I…I...I didn't mean anything. It was just talk…"

"Talk like that has consequences. If we ever hear anything like it again, you'll never see it comin'," Newkirk threatened.

"Trust us on that, and if you go near Kinch or le Colonel, we'll be watching," LeBeau drew his hand across his throat indicating what they'd do to Gibson.

"Get the hell back inside and don't let us see you for the remainder of the day," Newkirk demanded letting go of Gibson who stumbled to catch his balance. The man took off fast never looking back. "Do you think we put the fear into him?"

"Oui, he's like any bully. They can dish it out, but can't take it. Should we warn the Colonel?"

"I think that would be best, but let's not mention it to Kinch. He'd feel responsible if something happened," Newkirk said as they walked back to their hut.

"He shouldn't, but knowing Kinch he would. It's good that we backed Carter up just in case," LeBeau cast a glance back at barracks eight.

* * *

Unaware of what had occurred, Carter escorted Rays into Hogan's office. "You wanted to see me, sir?" Rays was nervous.

"Yes I do, have a seat," Hogan pointed to the empty chair by his table. Kinch stood leaning against the post on the bunk beds.

"What about, sir?"

"I think more went on than you told me about your broken arm," Hogan started only to be interrupted.

"I told you what happened. There's nothing else to say," Rays was defensive.

Hogan took a breath before continuing, "Except why he'd want to break your arm. Obviously something happened prior to that mission, and Gibson wanted to enforce your continuing cooperation. I need you to tell me what that was," Hogan ordered.

"I was in his way and he panicked, nothing else," Rays tried his voice fearful.

"Then why are you afraid of Stevens? He wasn't on the plane and had nothing to do with the breaking of your arm," Kinch asked.

Rays didn't answer trying to figure out what to say, he'd been caught and didn't know how to get out of this situation. "We're waiting for an answer, Private," Hogan demanded.

"No, he wasn't on the plane. He…just has always spooked me. No reason. Nothing happened," Rays blurted out.

"We know that's not exactly true. Why don't you tell us about Private Rowland?" Hogan requested.

Rays eyes grew wide, "How do you know about Lester?"

"The important thing is that we know. He was a friend of yours, right?" Rays nodded his head yes. "If the situation had been different, would he have stood up for you?" Rays had to think about that then softly answered, 'yes.' "Then don't you think it would be the right thing to do for your friend? What would he have thought of your silence? Would he want his family to suffer never knowing the truth?" Hogan asked, hoping he found the right buttons to push.

"What do you want to know?" Rays finally asked. He'd wanted to tell someone for a long time only fear had kept him from talking.

"Tell me how he died," Hogan requested, hoping for the truth.

"We'd been out drinking, and were walking back to the base. I'd had way too much, and couldn't keep on my feet. Lester wasn't much better but he kept walking, I fell down and I must have passed out. Next thing I know I thought someone had screamed, but wasn't sure until the sound came again. Instantly I knew it was Lester. By the time I'd stumbled to where he was it was too late. Gibson and Stevens were standing over his body laughing, covered in his blood," Rays stopped taking deep breathes.

"What did they do to him?" Hogan asked gently.

"Stabbed him repeatedly. When they saw me, I thought I was going to die." Rays stopped his eyes far away like he was back at the crime scene. "They came towards me then it all went dark. I'm not sure what happened. When I came to a medic was over me and a lot of people were there, Lester's body was on the train tracks and they said he'd fallen on them and had been hit by the train."

"But you knew better," Kinch urged him to continue.

"At first I wasn't sure what was real. When I returned to the barracks Stevens was waiting for me. He kept saying how I was responsible for Lester's death; my brain was so fuzzy I wasn't sure what to believe. Then he promised if I ever said anything about them being there, I'd end up like Lester, but it wouldn't be as quick," Rays lowered his head in shame. "I let him down. I can't stand up to them."

"Now you have a chance to make it right when you testify at their trial," Hogan ordered. It was enough to have Stevens and Gibson locked away for a long time. Once the war was over, then they could concentrate on getting the rest of the men responsible for Kinch's father's death.

"No sir!" Rays was adamant.

"Are you going to let your friend down again?" Kinch asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You've done the hard part telling us. Testifying won't be anything more," Hogan said wondering what caused the change in the young man.

"No, I can't do that!" Rays stood up terrified.

"We can protect you," Hogan promised.

"No, no you can't. You don't know with whom you're dealing. I won't testify. I'll say you made it all up," Rays answered forcefully then hastily left the barracks before anyone could stop him.

"What do you make of that, sir?" Kinch was confused. "Do we go after him?"

"No, let him have the space. Something else happened that he's not telling us that has him terrified. Either something they threatened him with or are holding over him," Hogan replied running a hand through his hair. This kept getting worse by the minute. Now he had two confirmed killers on his hands. Somehow he had to convince the Private to testify so he could get rid of Stevens and Gibson before they tried to kill Rays and Kinch.


	13. Chapter 13

**Yesterday's Memories**

**By**

**Jennaya**

* * *

Rays left Barracks Two looking around for Stevens or Gibson, fortunately they weren't in sight. How could he have been so stupid? What was it about Hogan that made him almost believe things could work out? How the hell did Hogan know about Lester? Was he in league with them? No, he knew that wasn't true. Hogan was a good man and not the racists Gibson and Stevens were. But it wasn't his life he had to protect; he'd gladly lay his life down to protect his family. He hated that he couldn't tell the truth, it killed him a little more each day, but the phone call from his mother killed him even more. Stevens had some crony go by his mother's house telling her that they'd pay for a call to England so she could talk to her only son, by convincing her it was their way of giving back to her for having a son willing to fight the Germans. His mom was so happy to hear his voice; she had no clue that she was being used as a pawn and her life was in danger. Rays knew, he knew very well, and Stevens never let him forget. He had two younger sisters that Stevens promised wouldn't like what happened to them after their mother was killed. No, no matter what happened to him, he had to keep his family safe. He was sorry for Lester's family, but maybe, just maybe, thinking his death was a tragic accident was better than knowing he'd been murdered by Klan members. Fortunately, it seemed Hogan didn't know about that. He swallowed hard, the image in his mind making him sick to his stomach. He wished he could get mind-numbing drunk, but he hadn't touched alcohol since that night. Now there was no way. How was he going to survive until the end of the war with those two only feet away from him? He had no idea. The only good thing was that here he could keep an eye on them and they couldn't pick up a phone having his family murdered. Somehow he had to calm down enough to go back to the barracks he kept telling himself as he walked the perimeter of the camp. A few guards stared at him; head down and hands tucked in his pockets, he never met their gaze.

* * *

"Did ya get anything out of him?" Newkirk asked hopefully, entering the hut.

"Enough to know they did kill the man, but not the entire story. Something has him terrified. Where did he go when he left here?" Hogan asked.

"He's walking the perimeter making the guards nervous," LeBeau answered.

"Kinch, would you let Wilkerson know what's going on and have someone keep an eye on Rays? Try to keep him from getting in trouble with the guards," Hogan ordered.

"Yes, sir," Kinch replied leaving to complete his tasks.

"Mon Colonel, there's something else you should know about." LeBeau explained how Gibson was threatening Hogan and their escape plans.

"Don't worry, Gov'nor, we got him sorted," Newkirk assured him with a grin.

"Thanks for letting me know. Do I want to know how you sorted him out?" Hogan asked with a raised eyebrow.

Newkirk chuckled, "Probably not."

"Non, in some things you should just trust us," LeBeau answered. Hogan nodded his head unsure if he really wanted to know anymore.

* * *

Rays had made about three trips around the perimeter of the camp in a fast gait finally slowing to a leisurely pace. Mason had been watching him with Reynolds close by. When Rays neared Mason, he went over to talk to him. "Hey, are you all right?"

"Yeah, just had some things on my mind," Rays answered. The two teens had talked a couple of times, and a friendship had started to form.

"I saw you were in my hut, were you talking to the Colonel?"

"Did he send you out here to get me to talk?" Rays demanded, accusatorial.

"No, I just saw you come out and start walking like something was wrong. I didn't mean to pry," Mason held his hands up.

"Sorry, it's just the Colonel blindsided me with something that I don't know how he found out about. I told him too much or maybe not enough. I don't know and now I'm worried," Rays apologized. Being all of nineteen years old, he didn't know to whom or where to turn.

"If the Colonel says he can help, he really can. He has ways of making things happen. Trust him, tell him everything."

"I don't know. Even as an officer, I don't see how he can do anything but make matters worse," Rays fretted.

"Give him a chance and a little time to help. I trust him to be able to do what has to be done," Mason encouraged his friend.

"I'll think about it. Right now I need some time alone," Rays said turning to go back the other direction.

Mason went back to the barracks reporting his conversation to Hogan. "Thanks for letting me know," Hogan said with a smile. He was glad to see Mason interacting with people. The small jobs he'd been given seemed to make the boy blossom.

"If you don't mind, sir, I'm going to lie down," Mason replied with a yawn.

"I think that would be a good idea," Hogan said with a nod. Although most of Mason's physical injuries had healed, he still tired easily. It was one of the many things he needed to consider with what to do with the boy.

Mason lay down on his bunk yawning and sleep beaconed him quickly. Unfortunately it wasn't a peaceful slumber as he found himself back at the SS facility.

* * *

"Sergeant Chapman, this time you're going to tell me everything I want to know," Captain Fleischer declared.

"I won't tell you anything. It doesn't matter what you do," Chapman was still defiant despite the beatings he'd taken. He'd been captured by the SS a week ago and knew he'd never leave this place alive. His only hope was that no one else had been caught as he'd seen no other prisoners. He was dragged into an interrogation room and chained to the wall. With his arms above his head and his feet in manacles, he had no way of moving or escaping.

"I give you my word that today nothing will happen to you. However, I do believe you'll be talking," Fleischer said with an evil grin. He indicated for the guard to remove the partition blocking the room.

"Mason," Chapman's heart sunk when he saw the young man chained to the wall on the other side of the room. From the bruises it was obvious that Mason had been through the same types of interrogations he had experienced.

"Let's start with something easy shall we? Since you are a navigator, tell me the coordinates of your airbase," Fleischer asked. Chapman didn't speak. "Cat got your tongue? Perhaps some persuasion will loosen it." The SS Captain ripped what was left of Mason's t-shirt off of him and removed his gag. Then he picked up an electrical wand and indicated for the guard to turn its power on. "I'll ask the question again. What are the coordinates to your airbase?" Mason shook his head no at Chapman. Trying to steal his resolve, Chapman didn't answer. Fleischer held the wand to Mason causing him to scream out in pain as his muscles convulsed.

"You bastard!" Chapman yelled.

"Perhaps I am, but that's not the answer to my question. I give you my word for every time you don't answer, I'll use this on him. When you answer truthfully, then I won't use it on the Private. You see his fate is in your hands. Since you are the ranking soldier, I believe it's your duty to take care of the young Private. Those coordinates would be?"

Each time Mason shook his head no at Chapman, too many lives were at stake. At some point mercifully, Mason passed out. When he came to, he was still chained to the wall finding breathing difficult.

"I can't let him keep torturing you," Chapman said with tears in his eyes. Mason reminded him of his younger brother, and he'd taken the Private under his wing as they were in the same Tuskegee aircrew.

"Do you think he's going to let either of us live? We can't tell him anything. If I'm going to die then I want the satisfaction that the bastard didn't get a damn thing from us," Mason said, determinately.

"Ah, you've regained consciousness. Shall we begin again?" Fleischer said coming back into the room.

The interrogation continued for what seemed like forever and when Chapman was about to break Mason yelled out, "Name, rank, and serial only soldier!"

"He can speak still; obviously the wattage isn't high enough. Turn it up to the next setting," Fleischer ordered.

Mason passed out and didn't know how long he'd been in his cell when he came to, only this time Chapman was in with him. Several times they found themselves in the interrogation room and Fleischer alternated between beating Mason and electrocuting him. When he realized that Chapman wasn't going to talk, the Captain put a bullet in the sergeant's brain. Mason promised to kill Fleischer as they drug his friend's body away. Fleischer laughed dumping him back into the cell. A couple of weeks later Mason saw the interrogation room again, while Fleischer grilled a newly captured pilot using the same torturous methods on Mason. The Lieutenant eventually talked attempting to spare Mason anymore pain. Once Fleischer gleaned all the information he could out of the lieutenant, he executed him in front of Mason. Each time the Captain had someone new to interrogate, he used Mason as a pawn with a bullet to the head always being the ending whether the person talked or not. Mason begged to be killed, but Fleischer only laughed at him saying he wasn't worthy of a bullet. Towards the end, Mason was so broken he couldn't even scream when hit with the prod. Then one day he thought he was going back to the interrogation room only to be loaded on a truck. Finally he thought they were going to kill him and he welcomed death, but miraculously he ended up at Stalag 13. He'd been in the infirmary for a week before he realized that he was no longer in the custody of the SS.

* * *

Mason sat straight up in his bunk breathing hard.

* * *

After Gibson told Stevens what happened with Newkirk and LeBeau, they knew they didn't have long in the camp. Although he was angry with Gibson for screwing up his plan, there was no other choice but to make their move tonight. He was able to steal one German uniform and hide it in the recreation hall. When they got out of camp, they'd kill a guard and take his uniform. However, before they could leave Kinch had to be handled, so they waited like vultures. It was nearing dusk when Kinch exited the gym and Stevens came up behind him.

"Sergeant Kinchloe, may I speak with you for a moment?" Stevens asked, politely.

"What about?" Kinch responded suspiciously, turning around.

Stevens walked up to Kinch and held a shiv to his side. "Don't make a sound, or you won't live long enough to get into the recreation hall."


	14. Chapter 14

**Yesterday's Memories  
**

**By**

**Jennaya**

* * *

Still sitting on his bed, Mason shook his head trying to push out the last bits of the nightmare. He hated them and only wanted it all to stop, but feared they never would. Looking around about half the residents were in the barracks. "Where's Kinch?"

"He went to work out a while ago," LeBeau answered stirring dinner. "Are you hungry?"

"I have to go. He's teaching me to box and I don't want to miss it," Mason said standing up.

"Tell Kinch that dinner will be ready in about an hour. Don't be late," LeBeau said adding seasoning to the pot.

Mason nodded his head yes and took off towards the gym. It was getting late and he knew he'd probably missed most of the time Kinch spent in the gym, but maybe he could spend some time pounding Fleischer on the bag. He could still see the sickening grin the bastard wore when torturing him. Picturing the face drawn on the workout bag as the SS Captain, while pounding it, made him feel like he had some control in his life. He picked up his pace nearly running to the gym. As he rounded the corner of the recreation hall, he saw Stevens shove Kinch inside and Gibson close the door. Mason froze unsure what to do.

"Hey, can I ask you a question?" Rays said coming up behind Mason. He then noticed the boy's frightened expression. "What's wrong?"

"Stevens and Gibson just pushed Kinch inside the rec hall slamming the door," Mason explained shaking slightly.

"No, no they don't. Run! Go tell Colonel Hogan," Rays yelled dashing towards the building. He shoved the door open taking in the scene.

A broken chair lay around a prone Stevens. After shaking his head to clear the cobwebs, he stood up and he leapt over a table at Kinch. At the same time Gibson swung hard at Kinch, who ducked feeling the air move past him. Kinch landed another punch on Gibson causing him to sway. Stevens slashing his shiv at Kinch attempting to cut him again, but Kinch kept distance between them by throwing chairs with blood flowing freely down his left arm. Not hesitating Rays bolted across the room grabbing Stevens' arm smashing his fist into Stevens' head. The shiv flew across the room with a clang as both men went down to the ground.

* * *

"Kinch needs help. **HELP!**" Mason bellowed running into the barracks.

"Slow down. What's happening?" Hogan ordered.

"Gibson and Stevens forced him into the recreation hall at knife point. Rays sent me to get help," Mason said with panting breaths.

"We can't go this way, the guards are changing," Newkirk said from the doorway.

"The rec hall entrance is accessible now," Carter declared, opening the tunnel entrance with the majority of the barracks population following his steps down below. The men ran at full speed through the tunnels.

Opening the recreation hall entrance Hogan, Carter, Newkirk, LeBeau, and Olsen climbed through the floor in time to see Kinch crunch his fist into Gibson's face. The man went down with a thud, unconscious. Kinch leaning on the table wiping blood from the corner of his mouth, his breaths coming quickly watched to ensure Gibson wasn't getting up.

Rays straddling Stevens pounding his good fist into the Corporal's face repeatedly, "You killed Lester. Fucking bastard!" he cried.

"Stop," Newkirk demanded catching Rays arm on the upswing. Rage filled eyes looked up not seeing who held him back. "Stop!" Newkirk repeated. Finally Rays realized what was going on relaxing his stance, then standing up. He had no idea from where everyone had come.

"Kinch, are you all right?" Hogan asked, walking over to him.

"Yeah, but it was close," Kinch answered, cradling his arm.

"Gov'nor, we got a problem," Newkirk said kneeling by Stevens.

"Several. What?"

"Stevens is dead," Newkirk stood up. Rays sank to the ground in shock.

Hogan reached down feeling for a pulse on Gibson, sighing in relief finding it. "What happened?"

"They attacked me coming out of the gym and forced me in here. If Rays hadn't come in when he did, I'd be the one dead on the floor," Kinch said holding pressure to his wounds.

"I…I…I didn't mean…," Rays stuttered, eyes wide with terror.

"Do you want me to get the guards?" LeBeau asked turning pale.

"Not yet, give me a minute to think," Hogan said looking around. "Mason said there was a knife. Where is it?"

"I don't know, it went sailing in the fight," Kinch answered. Newkirk grabbed a cloth wrapping it around his friend's arm.

"Olsen and Carter find it. Mason! Did he follow us here?" Hogan asked, alarmed.

"Yes, sir, he's still down in the tunnels," Baker said, his head sticking through the hole in the floor.

"Get him back to the barracks. I don't want him to see this," Hogan ordered. Baker disappeared back into the tunnel.

"Tunnels? There are tunnels," Rays said, stunned.

"Yes. I need you to trust me and not say anything about the tunnels to the Germans or Gibson. Can you do that?" Hogan asked.

"Yes, sir," Rays answered.

"When the guards come in here, you and Gibson will be sent to the cooler and that's where I need you to trust me. I'll come by and explain everything later tonight," Hogan promised. Rays nodded his head. Turning towards his men he continued, "Stevens' body needs to be moved downstairs. Kinch, get back to the barracks. I want Wilson to see you, no arguments."

"Yes, sir," Kinch replied and LeBeau helped him downstairs.

"What are you thinking?" Newkirk asked.

"One step at a time, I want you to stay with me," Hogan requested.

"I found the knife and a German uniform, sir," Olsen said holding them up.

"Take the uniform with you," Hogan ordered keeping the knife. They watched the men move Stevens below. Once everyone left, Hogan explained the cover story then opened the door calling for the guards.

"What happened? How did you get into this building?" Klink demanded arriving after the guards. "Severe punishment will be dealt out for this!"

"Sir, Newkirk and I were going back to our barracks before curfew, when we walked by hearing noises. Peering through the open door, we saw Rays and Gibson fighting so I intervened to stop it," Hogan explained.

Klink's eyes were filled with rage looking from Rays to Gibson, who was just regaining consciousness. "Why were you fighting?"

"I saw him prying the lock off and was afraid everyone would be punished if the guards found him in here. When I confronted the Sarge, he swung at me. I'm sorry, sir, I lost control and we ended up in a fight," Rays said, dutifully apologetic.

"Why did you break in here?" Klink demanded from Gibson.

Although a little groggy, Gibson looked around wondering where Kinch and Stevens were. Until he knew more of what was going on, he decided he'd better cover for Stevens. Hogan, he could care less about; however, Stevens might slit his throat if something else went wrong. "Wanted to know what was in here. I'm naturally curious."

"How did you get in?"

"He pried the lock with this, sir," Hogan handed Klink the make shift knife and lock that Newkirk 'fixed' before the guards arrived.

"Schultz, take them to the cooler. Gibson gets two weeks this time and Rays one week," Klink was livid. "If I have any more trouble out of you, I'll have the Gestapo escort you to another camp!" Gibson opened his mouth to say something, but wisely closed it. "Hogan, this fighting has to stop. Another outbreak and the entire camp will be punished."

"Understood, sir," Hogan replied.

"Schultz, after you've finished putting them in the cooler conduct roll call. I'll be in my office," Klink order leaving muttering under his breath.

Schultz and two other guards led Gibson and Rays to the cooler. "Do you want to be in the cooler?" he snapped at Newkirk who was following.

"No, I have a message for you from LeBeau," Newkirk answered keeping an eye on Gibson. When they entered the building, Schultz put Gibson in the same cell he'd recently been released from. "You don't want them to close in case they start fighting again. Why don't you give Rays that cell?"

"Why do you care which cell he's in?"

"Just trying to be helpful," Newkirk answered. Schultz watched him for a moment and then used the cell suggested. Afterward, he and Newkirk went back to the barracks leaving the other guards in the cooler. "LeBeau said you should drop by tomorrow afternoon, he's making something special."

"Rays won't be escaping, will he?" Schultz questioned with a raised eye.

"Give you me word, Rays will be 'ere tomorrow," Newkirk promised entering his barracks.

"Roll call in fifteen minutes," Schultz said leaving the hut to inform his guards.

Olsen snuck back into the hut when Schultz turned the corner. "Mission accomplished, sir, they'll cover for Stevens until morning roll call when he'll be reported as escaped."

"Thank you."

"What's the plan, sir? What are we going to do with Stevens?" Carter asked.

Before Hogan could answer Wilson and Kinch exited Hogan's private quarters. "How is he?"

"Kinch will be fine. I stitched up the area and it should heal without a problem. What about the men in the cooler, do I need to check them out?" Wilson asked.

"After roll call, I'll see if Klink will allow a visit. We'll keep you informed," Hogan said. Wilson left through the tunnel entrance back to his barracks. "Gentlemen, this is what we're going to do."


	15. Chapter 15

**Yesterday's Memories**

**By**

**Jennaya**

* * *

Author's note: This chapter contains material that may be difficult for some readers.

* * *

Shortly after lights out, Hogan was down in the tunnel pushing the hidden wall entrance in Rays's cell. Holding a finger to his lips, Hogan warned Rays not to say anything as he listened for a moment.

"Gibson's ranting began about a half hour ago after the guards left. Haven't said a word in response, as far as he knows I'm asleep. How anyone could sleep through that, I'm not sure. Kind of hoping he keeps it up until he goes hoarse, so it'll be a quiet week," Rays said quietly. Hogan nodded knowingly. "So do all the cells have a back door?"

"No, just a couple and the one Gibson is in doesn't have one," Hogan answered keeping his voice low. "I need to know what happened today."

"I'm sorry sir; a man's dead because I was too scared to tell you everything. If it helps, I was actually on my way to talk to you when it went down."

"Why don't you tell me the rest of the story now," Hogan ordered, sitting down.

Rays took a deep breath letting it out slowly as he sat on the cot, both hands clasped between his knees. "The night Lester died; I was shit-faced drunk and he wasn't in any better shape. It's not an excuse just the facts. On the way back to the camp I passed out only to be awoken by screams. It took me a moment to figure out what it was and where it was coming from. Once I realized it was Lester, I got to him as fast as I could." Rays stopped for a moment gathering his thoughts. "Gibson and Stevens had him pinned to the ground torturing him. His screams pierce my soul to this day. Stevens told me if I came any closer, Lester would lose a body part. My mind was clouded from the alcohol although I was sobering quickly. I staggered a couple of steps towards them and Gibson cut Lester's ear off. Enraged I tried to charge and that's when Stevens slit Lester's throat. I swung at Gibson; however, all I saw was his fist in my face. Next thing I knew the medic was holding smelling salts under my nose," Rays paused.

"Why didn't you tell this to the investigators?"

"Fear. When I got back to the barracks, Stevens and Gibson were waiting for me. Gibson had Lester's ear in a box gleefully showing it to me. Threatening me if I ever told anything that my death wouldn't be as easy as Lester's death," Rays explained.

Hogan took in a deep breath blowing it out his mouth. "Do you know what happened to the ear?"

"Gibson kept it as a souvenir. Unless someone has found it, I can tell you where he hid it while we were out on a mission. He used to brag that it was a tradition his great-grandfather had started when they killed a black man. Everyone is exposed and raised in their family's traditions, but at some point a man has to decide if those traditions are worth keeping. How anyone could…I don't understand it," Rays shook his head.

"I've wondered why his racism runs so deep, suppose that answers some of it," Hogan said. He didn't understand how anyone could hate with that much passion, but if a man was raised in an environment with hatred shoved into him since day one, it made sense in a sick twisted way.

"Sir, I didn't mean to kill Stevens but I'm willing to accept whatever type of punishment is deemed appropriate," Rays said.

"Although there were extenuating circumstances, I can't promise charges won't be filed. Are you willing to testify against Gibson for Lester's death and the attack on Kinch?" Hogan asked.

"Yes, sir, I'll do whatever is needed. At this point all the damage has been done. It doesn't matter what happens to me. I just wish," Rays turned his head blinking his eyes, counting to soften his breathe, gaining control over his emotions.

"What?" Both of Hogan's eyebrows shot up.

"I wish there was some way of warning them, perhaps they could run, but it's just not possible." Hogan looked at him warily. "A week after Lester died, my mother called. Stevens had an army buddy of his make the call so she could talk to me. She was so excited and had no clue how she was being used. Stevens said if any of this ever came to light my mother and both of my sisters would be killed. I kept quiet to keep my family alive," Rays had tears welling up in his eyes.

"Can you give me your family's names, the men who visited them, and the location of the ear?" Hogan wrote the information in his notebook. He was furious; if Stevens wasn't already dead, he might have finished the man off personally. "You're to tell no one about Stevens's death no matter what you may hear. Also make sure Gibson doesn't find out about the tunnels, and don't venture into them without an escort." Rays agreed. "Have you ever considered joining Strategic Services?"

"Become a spy? Yeah, but I think I missed my opportunity. Why do you ask?"

"I think you may have what it takes with your way of parceling out information. Do you need anything?"

"Some food would be nice, I haven't eaten since yesterday. Was avoiding the wicked duo," Rays said.

"I'll have LeBeau bring you something," Hogan rose and left. Securing the hidden entrance from the tunnel, he made his way back to the main area requesting LeBeau take food to Rays. Turning to Kinch he asked, "Are they back?"

"No, sir, but they will be soon. How did it go with Rays?" Kinch asked.

Hogan ran a hand through his hair. "The entire story is more than I expected, now the problem is to determine what should happen. I need another appointment with General Butler."

"I'll make the arrangements when London is on the air tomorrow," Kinch said pacing. "Wish you had let me go out with them."

"Until you're a hundred percent it's too risky." Kinch didn't like the answer but knew it was valid. Both men turned as they heard their comrades coming down the ladder. "How did it go?"

"We took care of it, sir. No troubles," Newkirk answered placing his pistol back in the cabinet.

"Wish we had another option, no one deserves that," Carter said pulling his black sweater off.

"War is full of lousy things. It was the only viable option available to us," Olsen said clasping a hand on Carter's shoulder with a gentle squeeze.

"I'm sorry we had to do it too and thank you for taking care of it. For now everyone needs try to rest," Hogan ordered following his men upstairs unsure any of them would sleep.

* * *

"_What?"_ Klink's monocle dropped from his eye. "What did you say?"

"There's been an escape Herr Kommandant from Barracks Eight," Schultz repeated.

"Are you sure?"

Hogan appeared in front of Klink. "Is there a problem?"

"What do you know about an escape?" Klink's voice was filled with anger.

"The escape committee hasn't approved any escapes this week. Who escaped?"

"Corporal Stevens," Schultz said, his eyes accusing the Colonel.

"Sound the alarm, release the dogs, once he's recaptured he'll receive thirty days in the cooler for this. Confine all the prisoners to the barracks," Klink ordered waving his riding crop around.

"That's not fair. He had no permission to escape, the rest of us shouldn't be punished," Hogan protested.

"As a reminder that escape attempts have consequences to the entire camp," Klink said storming off to his office.

"Are you calling Major Hochstetter?" Hogan called out.

Klink swung around facing the Colonel. "There's no need. My men can find the escapee."

"But didn't he order you to call if there were any escapes?"

"Colonel Hogan, it's not your concern how I run this investigation. Why do you want the Gestapo involved?"

"I don't sir, it's just with the vigilantes out there, I don't want Stevens hurt," Hogan responded.

"He should have considered that before taking off. Schultz, make sure Hogan stays in his barracks!" Klink ordered stomping off.

"Please Colonel," Schultz indicated towards the barracks with his hand. "Will the other two be escaping?"

"Not sure yet, I'll let you know though," Hogan entered his barracks closing the door. Schultz shook his head worriedly hurrying off to carry out what he thought would most likely be a worthless search.

"Wonder how long before they find 'im?" Newkirk asked watching the guards scramble.

"We couldn't have made it any easier for them. Hopefully not more than a couple of hours," Olsen said pouring a cup of coffee.

"How much longer before Hochstetter locates the vigilantes?" Carter asked, fretfully.

"I don't know, but we can't get rid of Gibson until he does. Perhaps the Gestapo need some help," Hogan said taking a cup of coffee from Olsen then sitting at the table.


	16. Chapter 16

**Yesterday's Memories**

**By**

**Jennaya**

* * *

The search had been going on for almost four hours when the discovery was made. Schultz turned the body over looking for dog tags, but they were gone. He checked the inside of the man's coat digging for the name he knew would be there then ordered his men to load the body into the truck. They drove back to Stalag 13 where Schultz directed the driver to stop at the infirmary. He lowered his hefty frame out vehicle, saddened by his duty. "We have Corporal Stevens's body."

"Are you sure?" Klink asked, fretfully.

"Ja, Herr Kommandant, there is no question about it," Schultz shook his head sorrowfully.

"You wanted to see us, sir," Hogan said as he and Wilson were escorted to the building.

"We found Corporal Stevens, but I'm sorry to say we were too late." They watched as two guards moved the body into the infirmary.

Hogan and Wilson inspected the body to ensure it was Stevens. "What's being done to catch the vigilantes?" Hogan angrily asked.

"Major Hochstetter is doing everything he can to find them. I've already notified him and he'll be out this afternoon to take a report. Hogan, the men have to understand it's never wise to try to escape, but this could have been prevented. If Stevens had stayed in camp, he wouldn't be dead," Klink was adamant.

"He didn't go out looking to be killed," Hogan countered.

"No, he didn't. Nevertheless until the Gestapo has dealt with the situation, I'm forced to double the guards. No more of my prisoners will be killed in such a manner. Warn your men," Klink ordered.

"Yes, sir."

"Sir, we'll take care of the body, and let Barracks Eight know what happened," Wilson said covering Stevens up.

"Very well. I'll make arrangements for the death certificate and notify the Red Cross," Klink replied leaving the infirmary with the guards.

"They seemed to have bought the story you came up with," Wilson said once they were alone.

"Yeah, I just hope Hochstetter does too. If you need anything let me know," Hogan replied heading to back to his barracks. It was the only way to keep the no escape record intact, and make Stevens's death appear to happen outside of camp. Because his body had been found and returned the escape would be recorded as a failed attempt.

* * *

Midafternoon Schnitzer drove into the camp stopping at the dog pen. He lifted his hat running his hand through his gray hair signaling a need to speak with Hogan. He slowly transferred the dogs out of his truck and gathered the ones he was going to take back. Heidi came over looking for a treat, but since she was a favorite of the prisoners he decided to leave her. Gathering other dogs he put them in the back of the truck. A few minutes later while the vet washed his windshield, Hogan came up next to the truck. "Good afternoon Colonel, sorry to hear about the trouble out here," the veterinarian said.

"Thank you, we're dealing with it. What do you have for me?" Hogan shook his hand.

"We know who the vigilantes are and wondering what you want done," Schnitzer said placing his hand in his pocket after the handshake.

"Do you have any trouble turning them over to the Gestapo?"

"Not at all, they're local troublemakers. In fact, we'll pin a heist we pulled a while back on them. If everything goes according to plan, the Gestapo won't take them alive," Schnitzer said with a smirk.

"That sounds like a good plan. Do you need help with it?"

"Nein, it's best if you're not involved. We can carry it out tomorrow if that's good for you." Both men turned watching Hochstetter's car screech as it came to a halt in front of the Kommandantur.

"Please be careful and let us know what happens," Hogan replied taking a step back.

"Get away from there!" Hochstetter yelled getting out of his car walking quickly towards the dog pen. "Guards!"

"Hello Major, what's the latest on catching the vigilantes," Hogan asked.

"That's none of your business. What are you doing here by the truck?"

"Just being friendly. We don't get many visitors," Hogan said innocently.

"What's wrong Major?" Schultz asked out of breath running to the dog pen another guard on his heels.

"Do you always allow prisoners near vehicles in the compound? How do you not know this isn't an escape attempt? Search that truck inside and underneath," the Major ordered glaring at Hogan. Schultz appeared too scared to follow the order while the younger guard searched underneath the truck and the cab.

Schnitzer ran to the back of his truck. "You can't open it. Those dogs are killers. Colonel Hogan was only making small talk."

"So he could distract you while one of his men hid in the truck," Hochstetter sneered. "Step aside." He opened the back of the truck to find four dogs growling and snarling at him.

"I told you no one was in there," Schnitzer said closing the doors quickly.

"Get Hogan out of here and keep all prisoners away from this area," Hochstetter ordered. Schultz escorted Hogan back to his barracks with the Gestapo Major watching the entire way. Then Hochstetter barged into Klink's office. After being briefed by Klink and viewing the body, Hochstetter warned Klink to keep his prisoners inside the camp before leaving.

* * *

"Sergeant Gibson, I have some bad news," Schultz said opening up the window in the door to his cell.

"What type of bad news?" Gibson groused, his throat hoarse from bellowing at Rays most of the day trying to find out what happened after Kinch knocked him out.

"Terrible news. We found Corporal Stevens, but he was dead. I'm sorry. I know he was a friend of yours," Schultz explained with sorrow.

"What? How? Where was he? What happened?" Gibson demanded. He listened quietly in shock as Schultz explained. He couldn't believe that Stevens took off and left him in this hellhole. "What about Rays? Is he even still in the cooler?"

Schultz mildly panicking quickly opened the window to Rays's cell. Rays was lying on his cot asleep with a book beside him. Although uncertain where the book came from, Schultz was relieved to see him where he should be. "Ja, he's still here. Why do you ask?"

"I haven't heard a peep out of him all day and was concerned," Gibson lied.

"Maybe he isn't feeling well. He's sleeping now."

"Are you sure about how Stevens died?"

"Ja, I brought his body back to camp, and there's no doubt about how he died. If you like, I could ask the chaplain to come by and see you," Schultz offered.

"Thanks," Gibson nodded his head then slowly went to his cot. Was it possible that Kinch killed Stevens? If so, how would they find the body so far away? Nothing made sense. He lay down with his feet crossed remembering the first time he'd met Stevens. They'd both been assigned to an airbase in southern England within days of each other, and quickly gravitated together. An off-colored comment, a joke the _trash_ wouldn't appreciate, gave them the information they needed to know both were members of the Ku Klux Klan. Although others might have tendencies in that direction, they weren't true Klansmen so Stevens and Gibson kept to themselves mostly. Stevens reminded him of his grandfather, who was a planner and practical man not given to run off his emotions. Gibson on the other hand was impulsive and quick to allow his emotions to rule. It was a good partnership of brains and brawn.

His thoughts turned to his grandfather. Gibson's family fought hard in the Confederate Army practically going bankrupt when the South lost the Civil War. They owned several large plantations with nearly a thousand slaves between them. The fighting destroyed all except for two homesteads. With the loss of the slaves, the family couldn't keep the remaining plantations afloat paying for labor. From 1865 to 1877, his forefathers joined together with others starting the Circle of Brothers which became known as the Klan. His grandfather was a child during the war and took part in the early Klan years as a teenager. He saw his family lose their status of power and wealth and blamed it on the slaves. That hatred burned in his soul his entire life; he made sure his son understood and together they worked to bring the Klan back in 1915.* When Carl was born, he was the delight of his grandfather being his first grandchild. The senior Gibson had hopes of grooming Carl to enter politics and take over the Klan, but his grandson was too impulsive and quick tempered. When he was twelve, his grandfather found the gardener, a black man, stealing a tool from the family. Wanting to teach his grandson how to deal with such crimes, he had Carl strike the man several times. Carl enjoyed the feeling of superiority and power over the victim. The following week, he attended his first meeting of the Klan, and over time was given many opportunities to experience that high again. Sometimes he would cause a situation just to feel the superiority over another human being.

At home was a different matter, he was always on guard. Gibson reached to his back rubbing the scar he'd received the night Raymond Kinchloe was lynched. His grandfather was furious after learning Kinch had removed Carl's mask and beat his grandson severely for the blunder. He'd never made another mistake like that one again, but his grandfather never allowed him to forget it either. When he came across Kinch here he knew exactly what had to be done to regain his grandfather's respect. Before he left this camp, Kinch would be dead one way or another.

* * *

* History of the Klan taken from Wikipedia dot org/wiki/kkk


	17. Chapter 17

**Yesterday's Memories**

**By**

**Jennaya**

* * *

"Yes, sir, that is good news," Klink said listening to the other side of the conversation. "Really?" He heard giggling coming from the outer office and rolled his eyes losing his place in the conversation. "Yes, Major I'm still here. I'll send someone to pick them up today. Is there anything else I can do for you? I'll pass the information along. Thank you for telling me. Heil Hitler."

Another giggle could be heard as Klink stood up straightening his jacket then walked to the door. "Colonel Hogan, why don't you come in now?"

"Kommandant, how did you know I was here?" Hogan said straightening up standing beside Hilda.

"Gee I wonder," Klink glared at both of them, Hilda's smile quickly fading as she went back to work not looking at her boss. Hogan picked up his hat off the desk following Klink into his office. "I was just on the phone with Major Hochstetter, and he had some good news."

"Germany is surrendering?" Hogan asked hopeful while he took a seat.

"Don't be ridiculous. He caught the vigilantes," Klink said.

"Is he sure?"

"Yes, in fact it turns out they were the ones who hijacked arms and ammunition from a Gestapo supply truck not long ago," Klink sat back in his chair.

"Gutsy. Did they explain their motives?"

"No, they had the audacity to fire on Hochstetter and his men when they went to arrest them. Needless to say they weren't taken alive. However, six sets of dog tags were found in their home including the ones belonging to Corporal Stevens. Hochstetter believes the tags were taken as souvenirs of some sort. The Corporal's tags will be brought back today so one can be buried with the body," Klink explained.

"Thank you sir, that means a lot," Hogan was interested in hearing Schnitzer's version of what happened, and grateful they were able to add Stevens's tags to the rest. He'd slipped them to the veterinarian when they shook hands yesterday.

"Now that this situation has been resolved, I've decided to transfer both Sergeant Gibson and Private Rays to another camp. I won't be diverted. They're troublemakers and there's no room for that here," Klink was adamant.

"You know what's best, and I agree with you, sir. When will the transfer take place?" Hogan asked.

"Later this afternoon," Klink sat back studying Hogan. "Why do you agree with me?"

"Well, Gibson has caused two serious fights since arriving. I don't want any more men to be injured. Rays is a friend of Gibson, and we saw what he did to Gibson with only one good arm. No telling how much damage he could do to someone he doesn't like. Plus you said the entire camp would be punished if the fighting didn't stop. I don't want to see that happen," Hogan explained. "If that's all sir, I'll let Sergeant Wilson know about the dog tags."

"You're dismissed. But leave my secretary alone. She has work to do," Klink warned with a stern look.

"Yes, sir," Hogan appeared appropriately chastised. On his way out, he winked at Hilda, who smiled back at him. He left the Kommandantur, entering the hut a few moments later. Hitting the hidden mechanism making the ladder lower itself, then climbed down into the tunnel.

"Colonel, I have London on the line. General Butler is available to speak with you," Kinch explained as Hogan came into view.

Hogan took the headset sitting on the stool and dismissed his men. He asked Newkirk to prepare Rays for what to expect during the transfer. "General, we are in need of a sub pickup for Gibson and Rays." Hogan proceeded to explain what happened.

"Do you think Rays acted in self-defense?" Butler asked.

"Yes, sir I do. If he hadn't of intervened, then Kinch would have been killed. Rays had no intention of kill Stevens. There are a few more things that you need to know." Hogan gave the details where Private Rowland's severed ear could be found, and about the men who threatened Rays's family.

"Assure the Private that his family will be safe. I'll have the men arrested and charged as accessories to murder after the fact. How does he feeling about testifying?"

"With his family safe, there should be no problems at all," Hogan answered.

"You've done good work. I'm told the sub will be able to rendezvous in three days. When a better time estimate is available, you'll be notified. Is there anything else I should know?"

"No sir, that's everything. Thank you," Hogan said then signed off the radio grateful this whole ordeal would be over soon.

* * *

Wilkerson entered Barracks Two looking for the Colonel finding Mason at the common table playing cards. The two spoke for a few minutes with Mason filling the Master Sergeant in on all the exciting things he'd been able to do recently, and his part in the upcoming mission concerning Rays and Gibson during the transfer. Afterwards, Wilkerson climbed down into the tunnel locating Hogan in the wardrobe room.

"Did Schultz have the information?" Hogan asked as Wilkerson entered the room.

"They'll be leaving in about an hour and half. I spoke with both Gibson and Rays wishing them well in their next camp. Gibson and Schultz were listening to everything I said to Rays, so we didn't have any time alone. Rays didn't give anything away that he knew what would occur. I made the suggestion to Schultz that you wanted, and he'll do it," Wilkerson reported leaning against the wall.

"Good work. Thank you," Hogan replied pulling on German boots.

"I spoke with Mason, and I think it's good he's upstairs and not seeing you in that uniform," Wilkerson said.

"Gave him a couple of things to do to make certain he didn't come down here. After this situation is resolved and Gibson is on his way to England, you, Wilson, and I need to have a talk about Mason. There's a lot to consider and I want your input."

Wilkerson nodded his head in agreement. "Will Kinch be going out with you?"

"Not with his injuries. He's preparing for when we bring them back," Hogan answered putting the finishing touches on his uniform.

"Why don't I assist Kinch, unless you have something else for me to do?" Wilkerson suggested.

"That sounds like a plan," Hogan nodded. He'd been worried about leaving his second in command alone, and Wilkerson would keep Kinch calm and occupied while the others were 'capturing' Gibson.

* * *

Schultz and Langenscheidt secured their prisoners in the back of the truck then left Stalag 13. They'd traveled about a mile from the camp when an SS patrol ordered them to pull over.

"What can I do for you Herr Hauptmann," Schultz asked as the truck came to a stop.

"I'm in need of transportation and this will do nicely," the Captain said opening the driver's door.

"I'm sorry sir, but we're transporting prisoners. I can't let you have the truck," Schultz nervously replied.

"Prisoners? Fresh Allied meat. We'll take custody of them," the Captain said with an evil sneer. Three men climbed into the back of the truck forcing Langenscheidt to get out. Gibson and Rays looked at each worriedly. Both knew some of Mason's history with the SS.

"But…but Herr Hauptmann, I have my orders," Schultz protested while he was forced out of the truck at gunpoint by a sergeant.

"The prisoners are now mine to interrogate. Your new orders are to return to your camp," the Captain pointed in the direction of the stalag. His harsh tone and mannerism scared the Luftwaffe guards.

"How, without our truck?" Schultz asked. Langenscheidt nodded his head meekly in agreement.

"March! Eins, zwei, drei, vier!" The Captain shouted. From his look, the guards knew they'd better leave and not ask any more questions, and hurried off.

"You did great," Hogan said once the guards were out of earshot.

"Thanks sir, Schultz is easy but it's kinda fun sometimes to have someone to practice on," Carter grinned as he climbed into the driver's seat next to Hogan.

When the truck came to a stop Newkirk lifted his helmet so Gibson could see him. "Stay quiet and do exactly as you're told and in a few days you'll be in England. Draw attention to us or get out of line, and well," he paused for dramatic effect. "The alternative you won't like," he patted the barrel of his rifle. Gibson swallowed hard nodding his head yes; the look in Newkirk's eyes alarming him. He had a million questions, but the lure of going to London helped him to hold his tongue. Unbeknown to him, Rays was smirking behind his back as they exited the truck.

Once everyone was safely in the tunnels, Hogan ordered the chains taken off of Gibson and Rays. "What is going on here? Where are we?" Gibson demanded loudly rubbing his wrist from where the cuffs had chaffed.

"Keep your voice down, we don't want to alert the Germans," Hogan ordered. "The camp isn't an ordinary POW camp. Topside is what you see, down here, we're a Traveler's Aide Society helping downed airmen and escapees back to England to help in the war effort, which is where you're heading. In a couple of days you'll meet up with a Royal sub and they'll take you across the channel."

"Why would anyone still be in camp if you have these resources? Why is everyone wearing German uniforms? Why weren't we told about this before now?" Gibson was borderline belligerent.

"To keep the Germans in the dark, obviously not everyone is in on the operation. I understand you're confused but for now just know that you're one of the lucky ones and will be in England by week's end," Hogan tried to calm him down.

"If you had all of this going on, how did the vigilantes kill anyone?"

"We're still in Germany and there is a war going on. However, they're no longer a concern to anyone."

"What's that mean?" Gibson demanded.

"They found out what happens to anyone killing an Allied soldier," LeBeau answered drawing his finger across his neck.

"If Stevens had known about the operation he'd never tried to escape. He'd still be alive. It's your fault, _sir_, that Stevens is dead!"

"Sod off. Where do you get off saying something like that?" Newkirk demanded angrily. He stood next to Hogan and towards the side of Gibson. Standing in a semicircle around the men were LeBeau, Carter, Olsen, and Rays. Kinch and Wilkerson were coming down the tunnel towards the group.

"Can't even speak for yourself? Your lackey here has to do it for you? Some officer you are! I'm going to make you pay for Stevens's death," Gibson threw at Hogan, rage in his eyes.

"Sergeant, you're out of line," Hogan started to say only to be physically attacked by Gibson.


	18. Chapter 18

**Yesterday's Memories**

**By**

**Jennaya**

* * *

Hogan stumbled backwards by the force of the punch from Gibson, the wind knocked out of him. Before Gibson could throw a second blow, he found himself pinned to the ground with a half dozen men holding him down. "Settle down or I'll knock your lights out," Newkirk ordered holding Gibson by the throat. Fury filled eyes glared up at him as Gibson struggled to get loose.

"Sir, are you all right?" Kinch asked helping Hogan sit up.

"Yeah," Hogan coughed, rubbing the bottom of his throat. "Get him in the cell and keep a guard on him!"

"Gladly," Newkirk muttered as they got Gibson up.

"You're not even man enough to fight your own fights," Gibson angrily threw out, than he spat at Hogan barely missing him.

To everyone's surprise, Carter hauled back and hit Gibson with a right cross knocking the errant soldier on his backside. "No one is disrespectful to the Colonel!" he yelled shaking his hand. The jaws of six men hung open at Carter's action as the room fell silent. Gibson looked up at Carter half dazed in utter amazement he'd been hit that hard by the meek Sergeant.

"Get him out of my sight," Hogan ordered.

"Yes, sir," Newkirk said hauling Gibson to his feet forcing him down the hall. Holding Gibson's arm bent behind his back Newkirk leaned in close with a low voice. "We warned you about harming the Gov'nor. Now you've done it pissing off Carter and you thought LeBeau and I were the ones to be concerned about." Gibson struggled to get his arm free but Newkirk held it up higher causing Gibson to cry out in pain. Although surprised by Carter's punch, Newkirk was quite proud of his best friend. LeBeau, Olsen, and Rays were assisting in escorting the prisoner, each equally proud and amazed with Carter.

"Are you sure you're okay, sir," Carter asked flexing his hand. "I can get Wilson."

"No, I'm fine," Hogan croaked out. "We need to get out of these uniforms." He stood taking a moment to catch his breath mindful of the three sets of worried eyes upon him. "Fellas, I'm really all right. We just have to remember that Gibson is fast and the king of sucker punches."

"That he is sir," Kinch agreed as they started walking towards the changing room. "How's the hand?" he asked Carter.

"It's sore. I didn't realize it would hurt so much, but it was worth it," Carter answered with a sly grin.

"You did good," Kinch said with an arm on the younger man's shoulders.

"Carter, you shouldn't have hit Gibson like that. You know I don't approve of violence among the men as a means of settling things," Hogan said sternly as they entered the uniform room. He'd been as surprised as everyone else with Carter's actions. But then his face softened as a smile appeared. "But you did good. Thank you. I have to admit I enjoyed seeing Gibson being knocked down a peg."

"Thanks sir, I just couldn't hold back anymore. No one has the right to speak to you like that," Carter answered sheepishly starting to change. Hogan gave him an approving nod.

"Is everything setup?" Hogan asked replacing the German uniform with his normal clothing.

"The switchboard is manned and ready, and the men are in position topside," Wilkerson responded.

"We better get up there, don't want to miss the show," Hogan said clearing his throat. The punch landed below his windpipe where the collarbones met leaving a nasty bruise forming. Hogan, Kinch, and Carter took up their position around the main table of barracks two waiting. Wilkerson excused himself from the group. Although the Colonel said he was fine, Wilkerson headed to the infirmary. He thought Wilson should know what happened just in case the medic wanted to make a house call.

* * *

"Do you think you'll move back to the barracks now that Gibson is gone?" Brown asked hopeful as he and Mason were tossing a ball between the Kommandantur and the front gates.

"I don't know. I kinda like the action where I'm at," Mason responded.

"I miss having you around," Brown said walking over to his friend.

"There are a couple of empty bunks maybe you can move into Barracks Two," Mason said watching down the road.

"I'm not sure I'd be the best person for those bunks. But it is more exciting hanging around that crew. Have the nightmares been as bad since you moved in?"

"The frequency is less, and I haven't had an episode in over two weeks, but they haven't stopped completely. What about yours?"

"They've been less; I haven't woke up screaming in over a month. The ones I've had I've tried hiding from Wilkerson, but somehow he always knows," Brown explained. "Do you think we'll have them our entire lives?"

"No, they'll go away and we'll both have great lives," Mason answered firmly.

"You sound sure. How do you know?" The older teen was surprised.

"The Colonel said we'd done the hard part already by surviving. The best way we can have revenge is to live our lives to the fullest and happiest proving those bastards wrong, and I believe him. So the nightmares will stop and we'll be the winners," Mason replied confidently.

"I like that," Brown said letting the advice sink in; he went back tossing the ball to his friend.

A few minutes later, Mason saw Schultz and Langenscheidt walking up to the outer gate. He signaled Reynolds and Garlotti who were leaning against the water tower talking. They in turn signaled Johnson standing outside of Barracks Two. Johnson informed the Colonel the show was about to start.

"Herr Kommandant, you won't believe what happened!" Schultz said nearly out of breath from walking back to camp. "We were a few miles from here when the SS stopped us. They hijacked our truck taking the prisoners. We were lucky they didn't take us too!"

"They did what? Why did you allow them to take the truck and the prisoners?" Klink demanded.

"The Captain was an officer and ordered me to hand them over," Schultz held his hands up in defeat letting them fall to his side.

"I'm an officer Dummkopf and you had your orders," Klink rolled his eyes.

"But he had a gun. A big gun," Schultz replied holding his hands out exaggerating the size of the weapon.

"I couldn't have been so lucky of them taking you two," Klink mumbled shaking his head.

Hogan had been standing in the doorway listening to the conversation. "Sir, are you going to contact the SS to get the men and the truck back?" Klink looked thoughtful for a long moment. Did he really want to tangle with the SS? "Isn't the commander over there only a Major? You could order him to return them."

"Yes, yes I will," Klink said confidently then picked up his phone. Once he was connected he demanded to speak with the officer in charge.

"Major Klein," came a gruff voice.

"This is Colonel Klink from Stalag 13. I believe one of your men borrowed my truck this morning that was transferring prisoners. I need to get the truck and the prisoners back," Klink tried to sound important.

"It was necessary for the war effort. Request denied!"

"But…but I need that truck and the prisoners are my responsibility," Klink's confidence was wavering.

"You were transferring these prisoners, Ja? Consider them transferred into SS custody. Perhaps you'll receive the truck back in a few days. However, if I ever hear of this incident again from anyone, a few prisoners won't be the only ones transferred into SS custody. Do I make myself clear, Klink?"

"Jawohl, keep the truck as long as you need it," Klink back tracked, his knuckles turning white holding the receiver. "Heil Hitler." He hung up the phone sitting down before his knees gave out.

"That's it?" Hogan demanded.

"I've done all I can. The matter is closed! What's wrong with your voice?"

"Bit of a sore throat. Maybe I'm coming down with something," Hogan replied with a shrug.

Klink's eyes enlarged. "Dissss-missssed, and don't come back here until you're not contagious!"

Down in the tunnel Baker disconnected the phone line as Kinch leaned back with a huge grin on his face. "That wasn't too much fun. Klink scared too easily this time," he laughed.

* * *

Gibson paced back and forth in the cramped tunnel cell. He had better accommodations in the cooler. He didn't believe for a moment that Hogan was going to allow him out of here alive, so he had to come up with a plan. All he had to do was get out of this cell, steal one of those German uniforms preferable an officer one, a gun and ammo then he could make for the coast and rendezvous with that British submarine. He was sure Rays would be sent back to England so all he had to do was follow the Private. He grinned when a way to get the cell walked into the holding area.

"What are you grinning about?" Kinch asked dismissing the guard.

"Come to finish the job your friend started?"

"I've always liked zoos, thought I might take in the sights," Kinch said sitting down on the stool out of reach from the cell bars.

"Tell me what really happened after I passed out?"

"You mean after I knocked you out cold? I turned to go after Stevens and he rabbited out of there like a chicken. You should have seen him run," Kinch had a satisfied look on his face. Hogan didn't want Gibson to know the truth until he was safely in London hoping for a modicum of cooperation from the man. If Gibson knew he was facing several charges including murder when he returned to England, the people transporting him to the sub would be in greater danger. Gibson would have nothing to lose and try to escape and could give up their entire operation.

"You're lying! He would have never done that."

"Then how do you explain him getting killed outside the wire?"

"I think you killed him just like we killed your daddy. Do you ever wonder what he did once he was taken to the hangin' tree?" Gibson goaded. Kinch didn't respond. "He cried like a baby. Whimpering and begging for his life. He even offered up your momma as a prize to us if we just spared him," Gibson laughed manically enjoying the smoldering in Kinch's eyes.

"If you're just telling lies there's nothing I have to say to you," Kinch was furious. His father would have never done anything like that.

"Aww don't go away mad," Gibson said determined to not let this chance pass him by, if he could only get Kinch closer to the bars. "Why did you come down here?"

"Thought maybe you'd have something to say for your actions," Kinch replied fully cognizant of what Gibson was doing.

"I have nothing to apologize for. When I get back to England I'll tell them how Hogan's responsible for Stevens's death. In a few days I'll be flying missions again while you're locked up in the zoo. Sending me back is the best thing Hogan has ever done. He might be a big shot here, but trust me, when I tell them what he's done he'll lose his eagles," Gibson moved back slightly from the bars.

"Do you really think you'll just be put back in a rotation after assaulting an officer?"

"Extenuating circumstances, once they hear my side of the story my CO won't do a damn thing to me," Gibson bragged. Kinch wasn't moving forward so he lowered his voice. "Seriously do you want to know what happened back in Atlanta?"

"Only if you're telling the truth and none of the hogwash you were trying to say earlier."

"Your daddy fought harder than anyone we'd ever taught a lesson too. You should have heard him scream when my grandfather cut his ear off," Gibson lowered his voice with each word.

Kinch clinch and unclenched his fists leaning in to hear. "Maybe someone should show you what it feels like to have a body part cut off. Newkirk's pencil sharpener should do the trick."

"He's a loose cannon," Gibson smirked. "Hogan should get rid of him; now Carter, that was bit of a shocker. Go ahead and ask me," he moved back a bit. If he could just get Kinch close enough to the bars he could knock him out then use Kinch's belt to fish the keys off the wall and make his escape. His own belt had been confiscated when he was put in the cell for that very reason.

"Ask what?"

"What you've always wanted to know. Why your daddy was picked." Kinch didn't say a word, he just stared at Gibson determined not to give him anything. "You'll like this," he laughed moving a step backward lowering his voice again. "Your daddy wasn't even on the menu that night. We were after Johnson but when we got to the house no one was home. Thought at first they were just hiding but a search of the house found no one. We were all dressed for a party so we looked over and the house lights were on in your shack of a house. We thought one n*gg*r was just as good as another. It took a bit to tame him but he died screaming and that's all that mattered," Gibson's voice was so low that Kinch had to move closer to hear him. That's when Gibson made his move on Kinch.


	19. Chapter 19

**Yesterday's Memories**

**By**

**Jennaya**

* * *

Kinch was quicker than Gibson expected and was out of reach before Gibson could land a finger on him. The anger in Kinch's eyes made Gibson slightly nervous, but unexpectedly Kinch walked out of the room and down the corridor. As he neared the bend he stopped, fury nearly overtaking him. Hogan appeared in front of him seeing the rage and internal struggle his second in command was having.

"He's not worth it," Hogan put a hand on Kinch's arm. Kinch didn't respond verbally, the look on his face said everything that needed to be said. He stood there clenching and unclenching his jaw and fists, then without warning punched the wall making it vibrate. For a moment Hogan thought they might have a cave-in when Kinch punched the wall a second time.

"I don't know what I expected him say, but I have to kill him. He told me why they picked my dad," Kinch said enraged.

Hogan grabbed his arm pulling him down the tunnel glad that Kinch wasn't fighting him. When they got to the alcove that he'd found Kinch crying in when Gibson first appeared, he stopped. "I'm sorry and I understand the desire for revenge, but I can't let you kill him."

"They…they're animals…," Kinch was so infuriated he could barely speak.

"Yes they are and he'll get what's coming to him. Tomorrow morning after roll call he'll be gone. Hang on just a little longer and trust me."

"What he deserves is to be put down like the rapid dog he is," Kinch said fuming, his body shaking from adrenaline. He was quiet for several long tense moments. "I need to go topside." Hogan followed him upstairs. Kinch grabbed his gloves and went to the gym. He laid into the punching bag nearly destroying it. Hogan watched from the back of the gym as Kinch worked out his anger for over an hour. Finally he sank to the floor exhausted.

"Feel better?"

"Not really, sir," Kinch answered taking the canteen of water Hogan offered. "What they did to my father was inhuman. I've seen evil, this war is living proof of evil, but I don't understand it. How can anyone do such things?"

"You're a good man that's why you can't understand evil. I don't really understand it myself. But I think that's a good thing. What did you learn?" Hogan asked sitting on the ground next to him.

"The man they wanted wasn't at home that night so my father was chosen at random. They cut his ear off while he was still alive! I'd always hoped it had been after he died. The pain he must have felt," Kinch shook his head trying to hold back the tears stinging his eyes.

Hogan swallowed hard, he'd not told any of his men about Gibson cutting Private Rowland's ear off. He'd hoped that was an isolated incident. "I'm so sorry."

"What my father had to endure alone and how frightened he must have been. I should've done something more to help him," Kinch hung his head in shame.

"You were a child and you did everything you could. You can't blame yourself. The only ones who should feel guilt are the people who killed him. This is not what your father would have wanted," Hogan said.

"Still, why he had to go through that alone," Kinch shook his head.

"The 'whys' will never make sense. He knew you were there for him."

"I wonder if my mother knows what all happened to him?"

"Most likely," Hogan answered. Kinch looked at him confused. "You've said they wouldn't talk about the details, and there was something that was kept from you, and the funeral was closed casket. Would you tell a young child?"

Kinch sighed heavily, "No. I hope my sisters never learn the details. When I get back home, however, I'll have a private conversation with Eugene. There's no reason for me not to know everything now. But, I don't want to drudge those memories up for mom unless she wants to talk about them. Gibson has to pay one way or another!"

"In a perfect world he'd been held accountable a long time ago. For now, he'll pay for his more recent crimes and perhaps we'll find a way for him to be punished for your father's death also," Hogan said watching Kinch closely.

"In a perfect world, my father would still be alive. But we don't live in a perfect world," Kinch said quietly with his head down, grief pouring out from him. Hogan placed a hand on Kinch's shoulder offering support. They sat in companionable silence until a guard ran them out of the gym near dusk.

* * *

"Why do I have to be in the chains?" Gibson demanded irately the next morning.

"Because that's how Germans transport prisoners," Hogan explained sharply. "As I said yesterday, you're going to the coast in the same way you arrived, in chains. Besides you don't have much credibility at this point."

"What happens when we get back to England?" Gibson asked, a little afraid of the answer, but proud that Hogan's voice was still off.

"Unfortunately that's not my call. It'll be up to the unit commander," Hogan said with a well-placed sigh, knowing Gibson would assume he meant Gibson's commanding officer. However, Hogan meant General Butler and he knew the greater of the charges Gibson would be facing. Murder for Private Rowland, four counts of assault, one on Rays, two on Kinch, and one on Hogan plus intimidating a witness and anything else they thought would stick. Gibson would never see the light of freedom again.

Gibson smirked; his unit commander was a friend and wouldn't bring any serious charges against him. Although he might lose a stripe for hitting Hogan it was well worth it. He's only regret was that Kinch was still breathing despite his best efforts. At least the trash knew better than to show up while they were leaving. Once Gibson was back in a bomber crew rotation perhaps he could arrange a little accident and drop a load of bombs on this place. Accidents did happen and then no one would be able to tie him to Kinch's father's death. "When I get back, I'm going to tell them about your culpability in Stevens's death. Don't think I won't."

"Do as you feel you need too," Hogan answered with a smug look.

"Hey, why is Rays only in leg chains?"

"My arm, this is all they put me in yesterday," Rays answered then turning to Hogan asked. "How long will the trip be?" He couldn't wait to be rid of Gibson, but knew he'd have to pretend to still be afraid until they were safely in London. Well, maybe pretending wasn't so hard, Gibson was still scary.

"You'll be at the coast by nightfall where the sub will rendezvous with you. Then a few hours later, you'll be breathing British air again. Sergeant Olsen is in charge and will expect your full cooperation. You'll be traveling in a military truck with the proper travel permits, so there shouldn't be any trouble. However, if trouble presents itself, keep your heads down and do as you're told. Do I make myself clear?" Hogan ordered, sternly.

"Yes, sir," Gibson said with a hint of sarcasm. "Who else will be with us?"

"Rogers, Mathieson, and Garlotti will be the guards. They know the drill, this isn't their first escort job," Hogan answered as the prisoners were ushered to the tunnel exit deep inside the woods. This exit was safer to use for a large groups during the day than the tree trunk entrance at the camp perimeter.

"Gov'nor, I don't mind going at all," Newkirk said glaring at Gibson.

"Oui, neither do I," LeBeau echoed.

"Count me in too, sir," Carter stared Gibson down.

"Thank you fellas, but there's a good possibility of cooler time for those going and I need you available for other assignments," Hogan replied understanding the desire.

Gibson sighed inwardly with relief. He didn't want Newkirk, LeBeau, or Carter to be in the escort afraid he wouldn't make it to the submarine. What he couldn't understand is why the others would return instead of getting on the sub with him. "You're a pathetic excuse for an officer. Why anyone follows you I'll never understand," Gibson said as he exited the tunnel. Hogan didn't respond.

After Gibson was out of the tunnel, Rays turned to Hogan. "He will have a rude awaking when we get to England."

"That he will have. Are you able to do this and keep him in the dark for another day or so?"

"Yes, without hesitation. Thank you sir, for everything. I'll never be able to repay you."

"Just keep up your end of the bargain and testify fully against Gibson and that will be repayment," Hogan reminded him.

"Yes, sir, I will," Rays saluted Hogan then turned and climbing out the ladder.

"Good riddance to Gibson," Kinch said. He'd hung back to not incite the sergeant, but was able to hear the conversations.

"Can you believe what he said to you?" Carter was angry. LeBeau and Newkirk uttered similar comments.

"Don't think I've ever wanted to get rid of an Allied soldier so much as him," Hogan said with his arms folded around his waist. All they could do now was wait and hope the trip went off without a hitch. But this was Germany and nothing had gone according to plan where Gibson was involved.


	20. Chapter 20

.

* * *

**Yesterday's Memories**

**By**

**Jennaya**

* * *

Early afternoon Hogan made his way over to the infirmary, "Where's Wilkerson?"

"He should be here any time. How's your throat today?" Wilson replied.

"It's fine," Hogan answered but hoarseness could still be heard.

"Let me take a look at it," Wilson requested.

"No need," Hogan replied leaning against the filing cabinet arms crossed.

"You're in my domain, unbutton your shirt please, sir," Wilson ordered with a stern look knowing how far he could push.

With an exaggerated sigh, Hogan gave in unbuttoning his shirt, "I'm not that easy."

"If you were then I'd be really worried," Wilson said as he checked Hogan's bruise out. "Does that hurt?" Hogan responded with a grimace. "I'd suggest ice packs, it'll help the swelling; when the swelling is gone your voice should return to normal."

"I suppose you told Wilkerson to give us some time?" he deadpanned Wilson while buttoning his shirt back up.

"Would I do something like that?" Wilson replied tongue-in-check. Hogan gave him a disapproving looking. "Remember, I learned from the best," he grinned. Hogan rolled his eyes. A few minutes later Wilkerson arrived.

"Gentlemen, we need to figure out what to do with Mason," Hogan started as they all sat around the desk.

"His strength is beginning to return. Although it would be tiring, he could make the trip to the coast now," Wilson said with Mason's medical file lying open on the desk.

"If we send him home, the army would provide him with the immediate care he needs then rotate him back to the states where his care would be transferred to the Veteran's Administration. Because he's underage, he'd be processed out of the service. That's where the concerns lie. He has no stable family life to return to and it's very possible he would end up on the streets, or if lucky, working as a migrate farmworker with his brother. Just due to the nature of that work, it would preclude any meaningful care from the VA. I think he needs more structure and support than that life could offer him," Hogan explained.

"As you asked, I spoke with him about his family and I agree with you. Mason wouldn't last six months in that type of environment. Throwing in the complications of race and attitudes in the south, he might not live that long," Wilkerson said.

"But he needs more medical and psychological care than we can provide for him here. Granted, he hasn't gone this long before without an episode, but they're not gone for good. His burns have healed, but the scars are permanent. In England there are treatments that would have helped with the scaring. I don't know what other injuries he might need care for. He needs to be in a hospital and thoroughly checked out," Wilson countered.

"That is a valid point, hence the dilemma. What would give him the best chance at a full life? All right, Joe, exactly how is his health? What does he need for as full a recovery as possible?" Hogan asked.

"Well his muscles are mostly no longer cramping. The bruises have healed, and miraculously no major internal injuries were inflicted on him as far as I can tell. I don't see any signs of organ failure or damage, but I don't have the diagnostic ability to tell if something is happening that would hurt him in the long run. His coloring has improved; energy level is steadily increasing, vision, hearing and senses seem to be intact. He's no longer showing any signs of physical discomfort. Overall he's improving, but this place isn't the healthiest place for that recovery. We've all seen strong, grown men succumb to illnesses here," Wilson spelled out, his mind wandering back to the men they'd buried over the last year. "He needs full blood work done to confirm something isn't going on that will have adverse lifetime effects. As a child he's still growing and needs better nutrition than is available in this place to give him a chance at a long healthy life."

Hogan let Wilson's concerns sink in before asking. "What about psychologically, Matt?"

"He needs the support of people who can understand what he's been through. Even the most loving family would find it a difficult challenge. If his Aunt and Uncle did take him back in, they wouldn't be able to comprehend his experiences. With their track history, I can't see that lasting more than a few weeks. A couple of men have offered to have him stay with their families, but that presents the same issues. Plus as the family learned about what happened to Mason, the amount of stress it would put on them for what was happening to their loved one would be unbearable. They couldn't help but make the comparison. After a couple of major episodes, the VA would most likely put him in a mental ward for several months which could be helpful, but at his age there's the very real possibility of him becoming accustomed to institutionalized living and not be able to make the transition back to normal life," Wilkerson answered.

"Which brings us back to what's best for Mason," Wilson sighed. "This is difficult. It's not just his medical condition, what about schooling? He's only made it half way through the seventh grade, if he goes home he'll be able to graduate from high school," he argued.

"No. No, he won't ever be able to sit through a regular school. It's just not something he'll be able to do. But I agree he does need more education," Wilkerson explained.

"So what can we offer him in Stalag 13, besides the horrible food, bad living conditions, and rodent population?" Hogan asked.

"Camaraderie," Wilkerson started. "No one here doubts what he's been through and he's working through that experience. I've seen more sparks of life in his eyes in the last few weeks than had ever been there before. As he's given responsibility, it's growing his confidence. Something you said to him sir, about the best revenge is to have a full life, has stirred his desire to live and overcome. I agree he needs more education, and although we can't offer a formal education, we can help him learn a vocation. He could rotate through working in the motor pool, the kitchen, the tailor shop, the radio room where he could pick up skills he can make a life with. Once we know where his aptitude and interest lie, we can hone those skills."

"That's all good," Wilson started, his hands dancing in the air. "But first we need to make sure he's going to have a life to live."

"Realistically, what would we need to do that?" Hogan asked.

"I'd feel a lot better if we could at least get an underground doctor to take a look at him and run some tests. To the best of my limited knowledge he seems to be on the mend. However, we owe it to him to make sure," Wilson answered. He liked Mason and only wanted the best for him, and with all the fact presented was beginning to wonder if staying wasn't the best for the child.

"I'll make some inquiries and see if I can't make that happen. For now, it seems that keeping Mason here is the better option. However, if something shows up that he needs more medical care than we can provide, I'll send him to London. Teaching him a trade is good, but he needs more skills for a productive life. A seventh grade education just isn't good enough. I want at least his reading and math skills to improve significantly," Hogan said running a hand through his hair. It was a lot to take on, and he wasn't completely sold on the idea.

"There are books in camp and we can come up with a reading schedule along with book reports to be completed. Something else that I've been meaning to discuss with you, one of the newbies that came in about two months ago is a high school math teacher. He's expressed an interest in teaching math classes. There are three German math books of high school and two on college level in camp. I didn't even ask how they were located," Wilkerson grinned. Hogan knew where they were swiped from but kept his face neutral. "Hammond has gone through the books and feels he could use them to teach camp wide classes. He already has a couple of students."

Hogan shifted in his seat, his mind moving quickly. "What would he need for the classes?"

"Practically, somewhere accessible to teach, a chalkboard, chalk, paper, pencils," Wilkerson answered.

"Educational classes are something I could sell to Klink to keep the men busy. He's been on this kick lately of proving that the men are doing voluntary activities other than tunnel digging," Hogan grinned. A week ago, Klink asked him what type of activities the men were most interested in doing, and Hogan answered him with a straight face of tunnel digging. Klink turned red ordering no tunnels were to be dug, and then ordered Hogan to come up with new activities that he could put on a report and show off to Burkhalter on his next inspection trip.

"The only dicey part would be the paper and pencils," Wilson said.

"I'll think of a way to get them if that's the only obstacle," Hogan answered with a wave of his hand. Olsen had a new black market contact who boasted he could get anything from the mundane to the obscure.

"Let's not sell Mason short, he's smart. Why not make learning another language as part of his curriculum? Something besides British curse words," Wilson said rolling his eyes.

"That's a good idea. Gentlemen, put together a list of what he will have to do to stay in camp. I'll present him the option of going home or staying here," Hogan ordered. "Now that Gibson is gone, we have to move him out of barracks two. As much as I like having him around it's for the safety of the operation."

"What do you mean, sir?" Wilson asked slightly confused.

"If he had an episode attracting the guards on a night that an operation was going on it could be disastrous for everyone," Hogan answered. "I'll make it part of his condition for staying here. Where do you think would be the best place for him?"

"I'd like him back in barracks eight, sir. He needs the structure and guidance. Although he's trying not to let it be known, I know he's still having nightmares. He may always have them, but he needs to process them. Plus he's a good influence on Brown," Wilkerson said.

"How is Brown doing?"

Both Wilson and Wilkerson shared a pained look. "I'm not giving up on him, but I'm not as hopeful for him as I am for Mason," Wilkerson answered. "If this discussion was about sending him home, it would have a different resolution."

"Should we send him home? He's been here long enough that I can try repatriation," Hogan asked with raised eyebrows.

"I think the process of repatriation might destroy the progress he's made. The only way for him to go home without taking it as a failure that he'd never recover from would be liberation, or on a mission to escort someone else home. But that would have to be a transport flight cause I don't think he could handle the trip to the coast," Wilkerson said with a sigh.

"Keep me informed and we'll make that decision on the next opportunity we have," Hogan ordered. "I want the list for Mason by tomorrow. I'll talk Klink into the classes." Hogan stood and left the infirmary wondering how he was going to accomplish his task. Was he making the right decision? How would Allied Command react?


	21. Chapter 21

.

**Yesterday's Memories**

**By**

**Jennaya**

* * *

The next evening, Kinch received word from London that Gibson was sitting in the stockade awaiting his murder trial. Once realization had dawned on Gibson that the authorities had proof of his involvement in killing Private Rowland and the souvenir made out of the ear, he began talking trying to save his neck. London promised to let them know about the outcome of the court-martial. Kinch, grinning from ear to ear, took the news upstairs handing it to Hogan.

"Glad to hear it," Hogan said satisfied. His earlier conversation with command about Mason hadn't been received as well, but they'd agreed to defer to Hogan's decision for now. "Mason, I'd like to speak with you in my office." The young private followed him into the office standing next to the table while Hogan closed the door. "We have to decide what to do with you."

"What do you mean, sir?" Mason asked, nervously. He'd been expecting this conversation.

"You lied about your age to get into the Army and the Army doesn't take well to that. It's a very serious breach of ethics. How do you think it should be handled?" Hogan asked crossing his arms, his command face unreadable.

Mason swallowed hard, his hands clasped behind his back. "Sir, my intentions weren't to deceive the Army, only to serve. As the Army has spent time and resources training me, I think it would be better for the Army to get use of those skills and for me to stay. I can make restitution for anything the Army is out because of my dishonestly.

"I believe your initial intentions were to deceive," Hogan paused watching the young man squirm. "However, I believe those intentions changed and you have served honorably. That doesn't change the fact that you're underage and too young to serve, which presents me with a dilemma. Do I send you home or keep you here? What do you think should happen?"

Mason looked scared as he searched for the right words. "Sir, sending me home would cause an escape to be on Colonel Klink's record. That would bring a disadvantage to the operation causing more harm to be done to the Army. I want to make up for my mistake and not cause any more hardships. By staying in Stalag 13, I can put the training I've received to use." Mason held his breath as Hogan paced slowly in front of his bunk.

"You bring up a good point. If I let you stay though, there will have to be restitution made. You will be expected to learn new skills that will aid in the operation, and take part in the daily running of this camp. It won't be easy. Would you be willing to work hard and make up for your past offense?" Hogan asked with his command face still firmly in place.

"Yes, sir," Mason replied without hesitation.

"Very well, we'll see how it goes."

"Sir, may I make a request?" Mason asked with a dry mouth. Hogan raised an eyebrow waiting for the question. "Would it be possible for me to move back to barracks eight? I like it here all right and everything here. It's just I miss my buddies over there."

Hogan didn't answer immediately appearing to mull over the request. "Very well Private, report to Sergeant Wilkerson in the morning. He'll have your new assignments. Don't make me regret this."

"No, sir, I promise I won't," Mason answered relieved.

"You're dismissed. Get some rest," Hogan ordered with a smile. He was proud of the way Mason handled himself.

* * *

Eight weeks later, Hogan, LeBeau, and Carter were gathered around Kinch at the radio. He placed the call on the speaker. "Go ahead General, everyone can hear you now."

"I wanted to inform you about what's been happening around here. Private Rays cooperated fully with the investigation and trial in the murder of Private Rowland."

"Glad to hear it, sir. What does the future hold for Rays?" Hogan asked.

"He's a remarkable young man and at your suggestion he's been transferred to Military Intelligence. Once his training is complete, he'll be sent to the Pacific Theatre. As an escaped prisoner, it would be too dangerous for him to be dropped back behind enemy lines in Europe. Now for the news you've been waiting for, the outcome of Gibson's court-martial," Butler paused gathering his thoughts. "Sergeant Gibson was charged with the murder of Private Rowland, assaulting Colonel Hogan, two counts of assault on Sergeant Kinchloe, and assault on Private Rays along with witness intimidation. He was also charged with harassing Private Rays's family and dishonorable conduct. He was found guilty on all counts and sentenced to death by hanging."

"No firing squad, sir?" Hogan asked. Hangings were usually reserved for civilians and conduct so egregious for military personnel that they weren't considered worthy to be treated as soldiers.

"His crimes determined that he wasn't eligible for a firing squad. However, in the interest of justice the US Attorney's office has stepped in," Butler continued.

"What does that mean, sir?" Kinch asked with his heart in his throat.

"It means because of crimes he's accused of that took place before his entering the military, we've come to an agreement. For Gibson's complete and full cooperation with the US Attorney's office in the death of Raymond Kinchloe, and other offenses committed as civilian, his sentence has been commuted to life in prison."

"What? For his bloody crimes he deserves to be put to death!" Newkirk angrily threw out.

"Let's let the General continue," Hogan ordered.

"Gibson will give full details about his part in Raymond Kinchloe's death along with testimony about others involved in the murder. If at any time, Gibson is found to be holding back or lying, the deal will be revoked and he'll immediately face the hangman's noose. The US Attorney will try to bring charges against the other members of the Klan that murdered Mr. Kinchloe. Although no promises can be made on the outcome, and it may not be the perfect solution, it's the best we could do," Butler explained.

"Thank you, General, it means a lot. My father has finally received justice," Kinch said, satisfied that at least one of the criminals would pay for the crime. He disconnected the radio.

"Congratulations, Kinch. That's the best news possible," Carter said. The others chimed in with similar sentiments.

"Yes it is," Kinch said sitting back smiling. He'd been able to find some justice for his father, a feat he knew never would have been possible if Gibson hadn't landed in Stalag 13. Although it had been a long and arduous journey, Kinch knew his father would have been proud of the way it was handled.

The End


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